


starlight

by asakami



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Unhealthy Relationships, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asakami/pseuds/asakami
Summary: "We could keep trying, but things will never change."





	1. encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reposting this from ff.net just because lol :/

 

She’s become a full-fledged introvert. She hates talking. She hates people. If it weren’t for work, she’d much rather stay home and never come out of her shell. If she weren’t so picky with food, she would call for pizza delivery everyday.

But, no, she’s a health-nut. If she doesn’t eat healthy, she feels as though her arteries will dry up or clog up or evaporate or _whatever._

She probably has OCD. She probably even has ADHD. Who knows? _Oh, look—_ she takes a batch of strawberries from the pile— _20% off. Hmm._ This would taste _glorious_ with whipping cream— _oh, no, wait._ No. No to whipping cream because she still has that vanilla ice cream in the fridge to finish.

So, in the end, she leaves the store with a batch of organic strawberries, organic chicken (breast), organic salad, organic ranch, and she might as well be holding it all in a fucking organic plastic bag.

Anyway, she’s going to go home, make herself a nice salad, and relax. She doesn’t have work tomorrow, so maybe she can go workout some more. Even though she just swam nonstop for two hours. Whatever. Tomorrow can be leg-day.

As the sun sets over the deep purple sky, she figures that her internal clock probably doesn’t work as well as she thinks it does. Like, she got off work at five. She stayed at the facility for two hours, so that would make it seven now, which…

_Oh._

Seven. No wonder. No wonder the sun is setting. Okay, it’s not her internal clock, she’s just being a klutz. What the hell is wrong with her? It isn’t like she did much at work today. Just normal patrol around the marketplace area, under the summer sun. Unless. Maybe she got a heatstroke? No, that doesn’t make sense; she would’ve been seeing white when she was swimming. And she would’ve drowned. _Hmm._

She shakes her head.

In any case ( _holy shit_ _just stop thinking so much please_ _I might really do have ADHD_ ), she picks up her pace, hoping to get back to her condo as soon as possible because Bodhum spring air really isn’t as pleasant as tourists assume it to be. It’s probably like ten degrees Celsius at best. Plus, living right by the beach makes it twice as bad with the ocean wind and all. _God_ she hates the cold. Tucking the straps of her duffle bag higher up her shoulder, she pulls the hood of her sweater over her head and shoves her hands into her basketball shorts. The plastic bag holding her recent purchase tapping at her knee with each step, her mind screams for her to walk faster because she _really_ wants to go home and relax.

The route she usually takes from the grocery store home is along the seawall, where the waves would wash up to the wall during high tide. It isn’t high tide today, so the shorelines of the beach can be seen. If it weren’t so cold, perhaps there would be people hanging out there. But it’s cold. And Bodhum is known for being warm and tropical and all that crap to the people of Cocoon. Granted, right now isn’t really peak season for a vacation anyway, so.

…

 _So_ why is there a girl down there, dipping her feet in that freezing water? Does she have a knack for hypothermia or something? Does she think she’s poetic, staring into the sky and all? Maybe she wants to die. To drown in the water and everything. Y’know. The usual, clichéd, _boring_ type of suicide.

The water’s at her knees now.

Maybe the girl really does want to die.

 _Maybe_.

… Maybe… maybe she should stop her.

_Yes, you idiot. You’re a soldier, aren’t you? You signed up for this shit. Stop her. Go stop her—_

“Hey!” So she calls out, the suddenness surprising even herself. The girl doesn’t answer, and only walks deeper. The water’s at her thighs, she needs to do _something—_ “Hey, you!” she calls again, this time dropping her bags on the spot and sprinting forward. The seawall isn’t particularly high, but she neglects the stairs and simply jumps down twenty feet because she’s crazy like that, and runs towards the stranger. “Stop!”

The sand beneath her feet make it difficult for her to run faster, but she manages as she reaches the shore in no time, her runners absorbing the water like sponges and she feels just how ice-cold the water is. She grabs the girl by her sleeve-clad bicep ( _holy shit it’s so bony)_ and yanks her with force, far, _far_ away from the water.

“What are you doing?!” she scolds, even though she knows the answer. But. It’s just obligatory.

The girl in question’s head is lowered, and it slowly rises up and her eyes seem to be wandering off in their own world—staring at everything and nothing at once as they search for the source of the sound.

Slightly concerned but more or less freaked out, the soldier tries not to be distracted by _all of the above_ and her undeniably good looks to question on, “Are you listening to me? Hello?”

And the girl’s soul has returned. Her eyelids flutter and her dark, thick lashes bat delightfully as those full, emerald eyes sparkle under the starlight. “Oh!” she yelps, backing away. “I-I’m so sorry! Was I… d-did I…” pausing, she looks down at her feet, wet sand sticking up to the skin of her ankles. Then, she looks on at the horizon of the ocean. And sighs. “I wasn’t doing what you thought I was doing,” she faces the taller woman again. “I’m not crazy.”

She is smiling. _Ooh, that smile._ That smile can kill.

“Thank you for worrying for me, though.”

It suddenly comes to her that a woman cannot really pull off pigtails when she reaches adolescence—like there is no way to look _not_ stupid with them when you’re old. But this girl, this— _god damn it—_ attractive, _pretty_ girl, who has (quite apparently) experienced puberty is successfully _pulling_ it off. Like, she looks good. _More_ than good. _God damn._ So good, she can’t stop staring. If this were a nightclub, if the soldier were _slightly_ tipsy, she might just coax this girl into coming home with her. But. That’s hasn’t happened for a while now, and she has to remind herself—she really, really hates the world.

So she releases her bony arm, telling her, “Stay out of the water,” before walking away.

The girl giggles. And— _oh god oh god—_ it sounds magical. “You are still concerned, aren’t you?” she picks up her flip flops. “Don’t worry. I do this all the time—mostly when I need to think.” She says, walking after the taller woman.

“You attempt suicide when you need to think?”

“No,” the girl bursts into another fit of giggles. “Just, y’know?” she shrugs as she struggles to find the words. “It helps. I can’t really explain, but it helps.”

“Hmn.” She climbs up the flight of stairs, back to the road, not really bothered by the fact that the stranger is following so closely behind. But then she sees the spot where she’s ditched her items, and instantly frowns.

_Ugh, shit._

The box of the strawberries must have opened on its own when she dropped the plastic bag. Now they’re all over the concrete floor. She can probably still eat them if she washes thoroughly, but _ugh._

“I’m so sorry,” the girl speaks timidly. “This is because of me, isn’t it?”

Shaking her head, “It’s fine,” she picks up the scattered strawberries and places them back into their container before standing up again. “It’s not like they’re eggs or anything. I can just wash them.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine, really.” She removes her hood, because talking is taking its toll on her, and she’s starting to heat up. But some _asshole_ voice in her mind tells her that it probably isn’t because of all the talking. It’s probably because this girl is gorgeous and freaking adorable and it’s really been _such a long time—_

“May I treat you to something?”

She blinks. For several, long, _dragged out_ seconds.

The girl smiles.

_Sigh. She really needs to stop doing that._

“To apologize.”

“…”

“I’m leaving this town soon,” the girl says, and that smile falters just the slightest.

_No. Actually, don’t stop._

“… I didn’t manage to meet anyone new, but maybe you can change that?”

She stares and remains quiet.

The girl grins in response. “So… I’ll take that as a ‘yes’?”

Another several, long, _dragged out_ seconds go by, and the taller woman still stays as quiet as a mouse. She’s just staring. It’s unsettling, in a way, but given how odd the circumstances they have met, nothing can weird them out at this point, really.

“I…” she clears her throat, finally speaking up, “… live right there,” she points to the building down two street lamps. “And I bought dinner.”

_Wait, what?_

“Oh,” the girl says. “Okay.” And that smile just disappears.

_No no no no what the fuck are you doing?!_

“Well…” her voice has gotten smaller, “have a good night, then. Thanks again.” But the girl forces herself to smile again. _It’s so obvious._

“Good night.”

_NO, YOU IDIOT._

The girl turns and walks the other way, and she just stares. Poor thing is wearing such a thin cardigan and small shorts and it’s freezing. But, who is she to care? She’s just an odd, overly-concerned stranger. She’s nobody important. The girl is better off making friends with someone who _has the right_ to care.

She’s nobody important.

.  
.

She’s nobody important, but _god damn_ this is irritating. She’s dropped off her bag of groceries by the sink. Yet she can’t bring the will to wash those strawberries. She’s on the sofa, looking at the black screen of her TV and she can’t find the will to turn that thing on. She can’t find the will to cook herself that dinner; she can’t find the will to take a shower, or to even sleep.

Probably because she’s an idiot.

 _Yep._ There’s no other explanation.

Rolling her eyes, she grabs her wallet and stuffs it into her pocket. If she doesn’t resolve this, she will never fall asleep again. _In her life._ And so, she runs out of the front door.

It takes her approximately thirty seconds to get down to the lobby, mostly because the elevator is conveniently on her floor. But she had been moping around for no particular reason for about thirty minutes, so it really isn’t surprising if she can’t find the girl around anymore. _Oh,_ another idiotic move, by the way. She didn’t ask for her name. Great. Even her drunken state is more courteous—like, for example, she would ask for their names before dragging them into a taxi. Or she wouldn’t downright reject them.

Wow. Sober-her is really rude.

She voluntarily chatters her teeth at the realization and sulks a little. Maybe that’s why kicking those people out of the house the next morning is always so easy. Her soberness is the main reason she’s such a bitch.

…

Come on. _That_ , really, is just an excuse.

She’s just coming up with excuses. They weren’t in a nightclub; they were in the middle of the street. She wasn’t rude because she was sober; she was rude because she _is._

She backtracks down the two streetlamps, back to the spot where she dropped her strawberries. No, the girl isn’t here. She looks down at the beach, at the exact spot where the girl was dipping her feet. No, she isn’t there either. She walks further down the wall, balancing along the ledge like a grade-school child with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her zipped up sweater.

…

And, maybe it’s just luck.

No, it has to be luck.  It can _only_ be luck.

“… Hi.” Says the girl. She is sitting on the ledge, her long legs dangling along the high wall and she is fiddling with her fingers placed on her lap.

“You’re still here.” She responds. Kind of rude, but it kind of works as a conversation starter.

They proceed to just stare at each other. Unmoving.

But then the girl smiles, eventually. “Don’t really have anywhere else to go.” She pauses and lowers her head. “You finished that dinner of yours?”

For a moment, she doesn’t know how to answer. That dinner excuse was stupid. Actually, the entire conversation (on her part) was stupid. She wasn’t— _isn’t—_ even hungry, to be honest, but—“I forgot to buy something at the store.”

“Oh.”

She gnaws at her lower lip. “So,”

The girl turns to her.

“I was thinking. Maybe I can accept that apology of yours.”

… _fuck._ She meant to say ‘ _maybe I can accept that offer of yours’._

She expects a gasp, an offended look, a mental breakdown, a _something._ But no. The girl simply softens her eyes, and that smile just gets wider. “Sure, of course.” She stands and brushes the tiny pieces of gravel off her small, orange shorts, approaching the taller woman with her hands held at her back. “I don’t know my way around here. Maybe you can take me to a nice restaurant?”

Scoffing a little, she arches a corner of her lips. “Are you a minor?”

The girl blinks. “That’s what you want to know?” she giggles. “Do you… really want to go drinking or something?”

“Well,” _not only_ , “it’s a Friday night.”

“Hmm,” the girl nods. “Okay. I’m nineteen.”

She takes a moment to glance at her. The girl looks about sixteen, but whatever. “Okay,” she repeats, “let’s go.”

“I’m Vanille, by the way.”

She stands still. A part of her contemplating for no reason at all whether it is okay to talk and another part of her _pushing her to just—_ “Lightning.”

“Hmm?”

She sighs. “My name. It’s Lightning.”

And the girl’s smile just gets wider and sweeter.

.  
.

The soldier surprisingly doesn’t take her to a nightclub. Both being underdressed and all, she figures that an ordinary bar and grill restaurants would do. She doesn’t want to put a strain on the poor girl’s wallet anyway. Not like, she’s going to let the girl pay. Yes, she admits that she is quite rude when it comes to speaking, but, come on. This is basic conduct.

And it’s not even time for nightclubs to open, either.

They seat themselves at a booth in the corner of the restaurant, away from the rest of the crowd. There’s a blitzball game tonight, so most of the tables that have good angles of the screens have been taken.

“Good evening, ladies,” a waitress arrives at their table with two menus in her hands. “How are we doing?”

“Oh, it’s a little cold,” the girl speaks up. “But other than that, it’s been a great night so far.”

 _Ah. The talkative type._ Lightning personally never makes conversation with her servers, but okay.

“Has it?” the waitress grins, directing her attention to the other woman. “I’ve been working nonstop since this morning, and I can’t really tell the difference between hot and cold anymore. I don’t think I can even feel my feet.” The waitress’ attempt to make humour is laughable, but the girl giggles in response anyway. Must be playing nice. “Anyway, I’ll leave these menus here. I’ll come back in a bit to take your orders, alright?” she finishes with a wink and walks off.

Loud cheers blend in with the loud music blasting in the background. She looks to the closest screen and sees that the Besaid Aurochs has scored. She’s not into the sport at all, but sometimes, when it’s playing in the background on TV, she would listen to the commentating.

“You know,”

She turns back to the girl.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Raising a brow, she keeps the rest of her face straight. “Done what?”

“Eat with someone I barely know.” She giggles.

 _Well, she can change that when she takes her home and—_ “You don’t go out much?”

“No, I’m usually really busy.” Vanille shakes her head. “I don’t go on vacation much. At all, really. So I think I’m quite lucky,” she grins, “to be able to meet someone as beautiful as yourself.”

Lightning diverts her attention down at the menu.

Seeing this, Vanille chuckles. “So, what’s good here?”

She clears her throat. “Don’t really know about the food. I just heard that their cocktails are alright.”

Vanille peeks out from behind the menu, staring at her with those round, emerald orbs in a suspicious, _suspicious_ manner. “You’re really just here to drink, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” An honest answer.

Vanille chuckles again, the sound bubbling in her chest. “Okay then. I’ll have whatever you order.”

At this, Lightning gestures for their server, and before the latter can whip out her notepad, Lightning says to her, “Two margaritas. On the rocks.”

The waitress, thoroughly confused by how straight and to-the-point the pink-haired lady is, turns to the other, red-haired girl, as if asking for her confirmation.

Vanille sees the confusion. It’s practically written all over the server’s face. So she helps by adding, “That’ll be all, thank you.”

“Not eating much tonight, are you, ladies?” she attempts awkwardly as she picks up the menus. But all she gets in response is that sweet smile from the kinder lady. “Your order will be right up.” She finishes.

The two are alone again, and Vanille, of course, strikes up another conversation. “You really like getting to the point quickly, don’t you?” she laughs.

“I hate small talk.”

“Hm, is that so? I was just about to ask you a bunch of things, seeing how we don’t even know anything about each other.

Pursing her lips into a thin line, Lightning breathed in. “I’ll make it an exception for you just this once.”

Vanille covers her mouth with a loose fist, hiding her giggle. “You’re kind of cute.”

She does not in any way feel offended, but reflex has her giving the girl an annoyed look. Weirdly, that elicits a more joyous giggle from her. It sounds delightful; it’s bright and sparkly and it lights up their entire booth. And Lightning believes that she can listen to that sound for a long, long time. She _wants_ to listen to it for a long, long time.

“So, what do you do?”

Lightning sits back, makes herself comfortable, and crosses her arms. “I’m with the Guardian Corps.”

“You are?” Vanille’s eyes and voice become even livelier than she thinks is possible. Vanille scoots closer to the table, even though her chest is already pushing against it. “Then, it must be stressful with all the training and stuff.”

Lightning draws her attention back to the girl’s face. “Not in particular.”

“Oh.” The light immediately leaves Vanille’s orbs.

Rolling her eyes, Lightning urges herself to _freaking try harder._ If she can do it drunk then there is no way she can’t do it sober. And by _do it_ she means flirt, of course. “And yourself?”

Vanille widens her eyes a little. It’s almost like she is surprised that Lightning is human enough to ask. Or to attempt to make conversation. Or to show reaction. “I, well, I do odd jobs, here and there,” she says with a small voice, fiddling with her fingers. “It’s hard to find a steady career nowadays, y’know?”

Yeah, she knows, of course. “So you’re travelling by yourself?”

“…”

Shit, _shit._ Second question, and she’s already making this resemble a standard Guardian Corps interrogation. No wonder the girl looks like she’s freaking out. _Ugh._

“Yeah, I… needed some time off.” Vanille droops her shoulders. It’s almost like her body has shrunk a bit when she rubs at her biceps. “Away from where I came from.”

Lightning takes the cue to ask on. It’s okay to ask on _this time_ because the girl initiated, she notes mentally. “Where did you come from?”

Raising her head, Vanille all but smiles. “Eden.”

“Hmn,” genuinely surprised, Lightning raises a thin brow. “Why do you people come to Bodhum of all places? The capital has much more to offer.”

“Well, it’s just nice to have a change in environment once in a while.”

Lightning opens her mouth, ready to add on to her opinion, but then the server shows up again with their drinks. “Here you ladies are… two margaritas on the rocks,” and this time, she doesn’t stay to talk, “enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” Vanille says.

Lightning pays no attention to the server, of course, and just slides her drink towards herself. She takes the wedge of lime off the glass and squeezes the juice into the beverage before dropping the entire wedge into it as well. Swirling the glass on the table a little, she sees from across that Vanille has done the same. Except, she hasn’t put the lime into the drink yet. She’s, _erm,_ sucking on it. Or licking. Or just nibbling. Lightning looks away, down at her margarita glass and tries to focus on just that. Her azure eyes follow the tiny beads of condensation, they follow one particular droplet that streams down the glass like _sweat_ and she scoffs silently before darting her eyes back up, and— _oh god_ —accidentally catches a glimpse of Vanille’s tongue and _yep she’s licking._ Lightning crosses her legs to ease the throbbing at her centre.

What is she doing? She’s not even drunk yet and she’s already _like this._ It’s almost like she’s a dog in heat. It’s just humiliating. Vanille’s not even doing anything sexual. There’s barely any tongue. Like, it’s just the tip. And they’re not even making eye contact—

_Oh shit_

—Vanille round, doe eyes dart up and they meet her own. Lightning almost pulls away and squeaks by reflex but she bites _hard_ at her gums to force herself to stay still. Any sudden movements would make the situation weirder than it already is. But then they just stare at each other and Vanille just keeps on licking that _fucking_ lime.

“I-I’m sorry, I…”

Lightning releases her gums and she tastes blood in her mouth.

Vanille giggles and it’s already established, but it sounds like music and chimes and summer breezes. “… I really like sour things.”

She clenches her jaw. “What?”

“Yeah!” Vanille sucks on the wedge one more time before placing it on a napkin. “I can finish an entire lemon on my own.”

 _Wait._ “What?” _So she wasn’t…_

Vanille laughs. “I know, it’s weird. Everyone tells me that. But I can’t help it that I like sour things! It’s like how people have sweet tooth. I have the same condition, just that my preference is something sour.”

Lightning tries to listen, she really tries. But she is fighting that urge to slap herself across the restaurant at the same time, and she is losing. Badly. Seriously, how could she mistaken such an innocent action as something sexual? There is no deny, she really is like a dog in heat. Lightning knows and is thoroughly ashamed of herself, but _fuck._

“Lightning?” Vanille calls. “Are you okay?”

She looks up. Thank god the lighting is dim in this restaurant, because she knows that she is flushed to the core right now. Lightning sits straight. She takes Vanille’s drink with one hand and her own with the other, switching their places. Vanille blinks at her in question, but Lightning speaks up before she can ask, “Mine probably has more sourness to it, seeing how you didn’t toss the wedge in,” this is a miracle. Lightning mentally applauds herself for not stuttering.

“But… what’s tequila without lime? Let me just order another—”

“It’s fine.” Lightning cuts in. She looks at everything but the girl’s eyes. “I’m fine.”

A bit confused, but nonetheless grateful, Vanille beams. “Oh, thank you so much, Lightning!” she lifts her glass, “Let’s make a toast. Cheers to making a new friend?”

Lightning looks up. Honestly, she has no intention on making a new friend or whatever. She just wants to fuck.

_There, she said it. Or thought it. Or something._

But she raises her glass anyway.

.  
.

 


	2. origami

 

She can’t exactly recall the last time she sat down and had a meal—or just a drink—with someone. She can’t remember having a normal conversation with a stranger, either. While she’s sober. As in she can’t remember doing it sober. _God_ she thinks like she’s drunk. It’s not like she’s an alcoholic. It’s not like she’s drunk so much in the past that her brain cells are all fried up. She’s just acting very unlike herself. And she doesn’t know why.

Okay. Well, she kind of does.

“… then, how about this?” Vanille continues; they are walking side by side, “do you have a boyfriend?”

Lightning blinks. Apparently, that ‘exception’ she gave her back at the bar has extended to one hundred questions. Now _she’s_ the one being interrogated.

That, and Vanille is walking her home. Kind of weird, considering that she’s the less scrawny one here. And she’s a soldier. If anything, shouldn’t she walk the girl back to her hotel? Lightning’s mind is too drunk on _something_ to question, however. She’s just going along with it because, really. Who cares?

“No, I don’t.” Lightning answers.

“Oh?” Vanille blinks in surprise. “But you’re so pretty.”

Lightning decides that she can say the same about her, but she doesn’t. She thinks it’s weird to randomly compliment someone’s looks. But she really should, though. “I really don’t.”

Vanille taps a finger at her chin, as if deep in thought. “What about a girlfriend?”

At this, Lightning doesn’t know if she should take that simply as a question. One of the many random things that she’s asking. So, is she asking or… is she asking _asking?_ Because that’s a big difference. Vanille’s offer to treat her to dinner—or the drink (which she did, despite Lightning’s weak attempt to protest)— _whatever_ , the moment they made eye contact when Vanille was licking that wedge of lime ( _oh that tongue_ ), and now she’s walking her home. Lightning wonders if she is being courted.

“No.”

Vanille gawks. “No way.”

Lightning doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to believe. So she explains, oddly with a load of honesty. “The timing’s never right.”

And as if she can empathize with her, Vanille just smiles sadly. “I see.”

The two remain quiet the rest of the way, and it’s a comfortable quiet, no matter how heavy the tension is. Or, at least Lightning thinks it’s heavy. Maybe she’s just horny. She doesn’t know. And it’s annoying as hell because she’s sweating even though the air is freezing. Thank god the building of her condo is in sight.

“Well, this is you.” Vanille smiles.

“This is me.” Lightning repeats.

Vanille looks into the cozy lobby and Lightning just stares at her. Then Vanille suddenly turns back to her, and Lightning reacts like an _idiot_ and just looks to the sky. Vanille just giggles. “Thank you for tonight, Lightning. Bodhum’s my last stop. After this, I… I think I’m going to go back.”

“Back?”

She nods. “To Eden.”

“Oh.” Lightning realizes that her voice came out in a mumble for some reason.

“I’m really glad I was able to meet you.” Vanille reaches out a hand, waiting for the taller woman to take it, “my visit here would’ve been quite dull, otherwise.”

Lightning isn’t listening. She’s just staring at the girl’s feeble hand.

“Lightning?”

She raises her head and their eyes clash. Hesitant, she eventually takes the girl’s hand and grips it. Grips it, but with such a delicate strength that she did not know she possessed.

Vanille smiles that cute smile of hers and it’s comfortable, peaceful.

Lightning then forgets to breathe and nearly chokes because Vanille is fucking gorgeous and Lightning’s lungs are the first to malfunction. Of all the internal organs, Lightning actually betted on the heart because it’s been pounding for quite a while now. But it turns out that her lungs are weaker. Oh well. At least she’s still alive.

Then she remembers that some sick part of her has been looking to _fuck_ this girl since laying eyes on her. And in spite of herself (her other, more _civil_ self), she can’t stop it. She knows she shouldn’t, especially since she hasn’t been doing it for a while, but there’s no deny. She has been in withdrawal. She wants _it._

“Hey,” Lightning starts, pulling her hand back to herself, “how soon are you leaving?”

Vanille’s hand lingers in the air for a short while. “Probably tomorrow, if there are tickets available. I’ll have to go to the station early to check.”

“I see.” She responds. Lightning looks into the lobby, contemplating slightly before turning back to her. “You down to make your stay in this town a bit less dull?”

Stunned, it takes Vanille exactly six seconds to react— _Lightning knows because she counted_ —by losing herself into a fit of giggles. “What do you have in mind?”

She shrugs. This part is usually easier when she’s tipsy. “Want to come up for a drink?”

“Mmm…” Vanille mock-glares at her. “Lightning…”

She looks away. “What.”

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“What? No.” Lightning almost looked offended. _Almost._

Vanille’s glare softens and she is smiling again. “Then… you’re inviting me into your home?”

Lightning swallows. She nods once.

“Even though you barely know me?”

 _Well_ , if she puts it that way. Lightning realizes that it does sound kind of bad. Then again, she’s done worse. Like, _a lot_ worse. “I know your name.” she defends.

Vanille gives her a half smile and a very sarcastic stare. She looks as though she’s enjoying this, but then she looks like she’s angry as well. But it’s cute. Honestly, she’s very cute. Every expression she has made so far is cute. “Yeah, but… I’m pretty much a stranger. Even though we had a drink and I asked you like a hundred questions. I mean, what if I turn out to be a bad person, and I steal all your belongings?”

Lightning raises a brow. “Really? _You_?”

“Well, yeah! Criminals can come in all shapes and sizes!”

She scoffs. “If you end up being a criminal, then I’ll just punish you.”

Vanille eyelids flutter.

Lightning nearly gasps out loud. _Wait wait shit, she meant—_ “Arrest.” She corrects quickly, “… arrest.” She says one more time just to make sure.

It doesn’t seem like Vanille picked up the innuendo, however. _Thank god._ Because she’s nodding now, as if Lightning’s rationalization makes sense. If that _even_ makes sense. “That’s true,” she says to herself. “Alright then. If it’s okay with you.”

 _YES!—_ “Yeah.”

Vanille grins. “Really okay?”

Lightning nods again.

And Vanille just widens that grin. “Okay.” She turns towards the entrance of the building, arms behind her back, “lead the way.”

Lightning tries not to act too eager. But. _She is,_ so. That’s kind of difficult. And she wonders why the girl doesn’t worry for her own safety. “Here,” she says simply and walks into the lobby, opening the door for the girl.

“Thank you.” Vanille hums sweetly.

They walk in. The security guard sitting behind the counter gives Lightning a look. It’s the typical _oh-Miss-Farron-is-bringing-home-another-person_ look. Or the _I-am-going-to-watch-these-two-do-it-in-the-elevator_ look. Typical indeed. In her defense though, she hasn't been doing it for a few… _er,_ weeks. And it’s not like she’s going to do it to Vanille. At least not right now. Or not in the elevator.

“Good evening, Miss Farron.” The security guard greets.

Lightning just nods (as she usually does), but Vanille makes it up to the poor old man by waving her tiny hand at him. They wait for the elevator together; meanwhile, Lightning tries not to think how often her hormones would have let loose _right here_ and she would just pin the people she brings home onto the wall the moment that door opens. Doesn’t really matter guy or girl. Lightning just does it. She thinks she has an issue with dominance. _But_ she’s not drunk right now, she notes, so she can’t exactly act like an animal. Still, it’s hard. Because at the corner of her eyes though, she sees how small Vanille’s frame is and easily pictures how much _smaller_ she would be on her bed. How _cute_ she would be when she’s squirming beneath her. _Ooh._ And how sweet her voice would sound when she—

“Lightning?”

She glances up. Vanille’s holding the door for her and is just. _Damn._ So freaking innocent.

“Which floor do you live on?”

Lightning walks in. “Thirteenth.”

.  
.

They enter her flat, and although she has a more than steady income and her parents _were_ quite wealthy, Lightning says something really stupid. “This isn’t much.” She watches Vanille take off her flip-flops and subsequently spins around to give her an _are-you-kidding-me_ look.

“Are you kidding me?”

 _Yeah, nope._ Lightning bites her lower lip.

“This place isn’t _isn’t much_! I mean, look at it! You have an ocean view and everything!” Vanille laughs as she skips into the living room, which is right to the left of the entrance. “Now you’ll have to be careful that I don’t steal your _entire_ home!” she jokes.

Lightning wants to tell her to try, but she just breathes out a sound of amusement. “Have a seat,” she says, surprising even herself with all the politeness. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“Thank you.” Vanille makes her way over to the white, leather sofa and takes a seat.

… _Well,_ this is weird. When Lightning brings them home, they usually go straight to that one specific room (i.e. _her_ room), but Vanille’s just. Not… going there. Probably just for now. Eventually, it’ll happen. But it’s still weird. Lightning drops the idea for now and heads into the open kitchen, and somehow reprehends that even though her place is really nice and chic and modern, she doesn’t like how everything is just so _open_. It never came to her that she would hate her place solely because of this reason. Then again, this reason alone is ridiculous, and it probably will never come to her again when Vanille leaves, but _point is_ , right now, she doesn’t like how no matter where she looks, she sees _her_.

And as if said girl has the power of telepathy or something, she turns to her, showing off those beautiful cheeks as she smiles.

Lightning swears, that smile is dangerous.   _She’s_ dangerous. And so, she avoids it as if it were a fucking Gatling gun. She nearly throws herself behind the counter of the sink, but she screams in her mind that Vanille isn’t really trying to gun her down. Lightning comes to the conclusion that her sober mind is just trying to mess her up. So she plays it cool and distracts herself by occupying her hands, blindly feeling for something to hold onto on the counter.

 _Oh,_ strawberries. And that packaged organic chicken and salad.

That’s right. She just left them here before making record time heading down the lobby earlier. Smooth. Lightning rolls her eyes to her idiocy. She stuffs the chicken and the salad into the fridge and proceeds to grab a glass serving bowl from the cupboard. She just dumps the box of strawberries into it and turns the tab on, pretending to be very interested in the cool, running water so that she doesn’t have to look at Vanille.

“Lightning, do you need help?” But, Vanille makes her look anyway.

Lightning recovers quickly. But it’s not like she showed much of a reaction to begin with, so it’s all good. “No.” she answers, looking back down.

“Are you sure? I can—”

“It’s fine,” Lightning cuts her off with a rather soft voice. “Just sit. You’re the guest.”

Vanille hesitates, but doesn’t protest. She keeps her hands in her lap and stares at them.

Feeling a bit guilty for some reason, Lightning sighs. Typically, she isn’t the one who tends to her guests. As in, tending to them like _actual_ guests. Like, those who come in for tea and stuff. Not the ones who come in for a fling or whatever. Her point is, she isn’t the one who makes tea. That job is usually left to someone else.

But that someone else isn’t here anymore.

Lightning drains the water in the glass bowl. She wipes her hands dry and doesn’t know whether to get the champagne glasses or the shot glasses. But she quickly realizes that no one really serves his or her first time guests with hard liquor. And this isn’t a high school party or anything, so. _No vodka tonight_. She grabs two champagne glasses from another cupboard before making her way over to Vanille.

“I’m sorry again, about the strawberries.” Vanille says, strangely not-so-apologetically. It almost sounds like she’s amused.

Lightning places the bowl and glasses down onto the coffee table. “Like I said, they’re not eggs. It’s not like they exploded or anything.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry,” Vanille takes a strawberry and takes such a small bite she might as well not bite at all. Her pink lips _suck_ at the tip and Lightning thinks she’s going to lose it. “… sorry that I’m probably going to eat them all.” She finishes with a wink before putting the rest of the fruit into her mouth.

Lightning swallows, like she’s swallowing _with_ Vanille. The lump in the girl’s throat moves _very_ evidently and Lightning fights the _hot_ shudder that shoots down her spine. _Okay._ So, that lime thing back at the bar was probably just a coincidence. But this. _This._ Vanille is flirting. She’s obviously flirting. If this isn’t flirting, then Lightning is a dude. “I… uh.” She clears her throat, “I’m going to get the champagne.”

“Okay,” Vanille says, her voice innocent.

She returns in a flash, paying homage to her namesake. Probably because she really needs to get drunk. Just as quickly, she removes the foil of the bottle, twisting the cork loose to let the gas slowly leak out before finishing up in hidden-desperation by popping it open. The cork didn’t shoot up to the ceiling, so there’s that. Lightning mentally pats herself on the back for being able to maintain her composure while _opening champagne_. She takes a glass and tilts it at an angle before pouring. “Here,” she says, handing it to the girl.

“Thank you.” Vanille says. She takes another strawberry. Lightning prays that she doesn’t bite into it again because she doesn’t know if she can take any more of the sight of that _torturous tongue—_

 _Blop_.

Vanille just drops the strawberry into her drink. The champagne sizzles around fruit and Lightning finds the sight to be… _hm,_ she doesn’t want to say arousing. But.

It is.

Vanille takes a sip and Lightning’s eyes follow lump in her throat as it bobs.

“I like this,” Vanille speaks up.

Lightning shifts her attention away. She pours herself a glass and finds herself a comfortable spot on the floor. That decision to buy this white, fluffy sheepskin rug to match the sofa was a good one.

“Oh, Lightning, don't sit on the floor! Come here, sit with me.” Vanille says as she scoots over. She pats on the seat beside her.

“I’m fine,” she states with a smooth voice. _Another pat on the back._

Vanille frowns and her entire body slumps. “That’s all you’ve been saying tonight…”

Lightning clenches her jaw a little. That guilt is coming back, and she knows it’s because she’s acting like a bitch again. She averts her gaze, eyes unconsciously moving down to Vanille’s kneecaps. “I, um, I just like this angle.” _… shit_ —she tears her eyes away from Vanille’s legs.

Confused, Vanille just blinks.

But Lightning presses on despite the mess-up. “And I like sitting on the ground,” she reasons, and interesting enough, she thinks she’s making it somewhat logical.

“You’re a funny person.” Vanille responds. Suddenly, out of nowhere “Then may I sit beside you?”

Lightning feels that she’s widened her eyes so abruptly that her eyeballs might just fall out of their sockets. And when she doesn’t respond fast enough, Vanille takes the initiative to slide down her seat so that she’s sitting beside Lightning. “Yeah.” She answers, about a few seconds _after_ Vanille has completed the action.

And, to add on to Vanille’s comment from earlier, Lightning doesn’t find herself to be _funny_ in any way. If anything, she’d say she’s quite boring. But okay.

“Oh, I mean you’re funny in a cute way, by the way.” Vanille adds, taking a sip from her glass.

Lightning takes a sip too, trying to hide her blush.

“Do you do this often?”

She looks up in an instant, suddenly forgetting about her blush. “Do what?”

“Inviting people you’ve just met into your house. It was really natural when you asked me, so I just figured.”

Lightning could have laughed out loud. Here she is, thinking that she is (and was) being anything _but_ natural, and yet her guest is telling her that she _was_ natural? Wow. Somebody give her a _best actress_ award. But it is true that she invites people over _a lot_. Except, obviously in another way. So—“Not that often. Just once in a while,” she answers.

“Then I’m pretty luck, aren’t I?” Vanille remarks as places her glass onto the coffee table.

Lightning pours her some more champagne.

“I have to warn you though,” Vanille says just as the woman in question finishes. “I’m actually quite a lightweight.”

Lightning glances at her just as she finishes twisting the bottle.

“So if I pass out or anything, please don’t get mad at me.” She giggles.

 _Ugh._ How can this girl be so freaking innocent? She’s practically relying her safety on a complete stranger right here. “I won’t get mad at you,” Lightning responds dutifully, now feeling like a fucking asshole for inviting this sweet, kind, young girl in just so she can bed her. “If anything, you can sleep here if you want.” She wants to add that she will not do anything inappropriate.

But apparently, Vanille has absolute trust in her. “You’re really kind, Lightning. At first I thought you would be a mean person because… I mean, no offense, but your resting face makes you look like you’re going to kill an entire herd of Long Gui.”

She blinks. It’s the first time she’s heard it said in that way, but on the basis, “I get that a lot.”

“Aw, it’s okay,” Vanille gives her a few friendly pats on the shoulder, “I think you are really nice. Like… at least you’re not a kidnapper or anything. Or you’re not taking advantage of me. Do you have any idea how many people are like that out there? It’s kind of unsettling. But then again, you’re so beautiful—I think _you_ should be the one to worry if anyone tries to kidnap you or take advantage of you.”

Lightning chews at her lip. _Fuck you, irony._

The two continue to talk. Well, it’s mostly Vanille doing the talking. Lightning’s just there, really. And to be honest, she’s such a shitty host. Vanille asks her casual questions, and she either nods or just grunts. It isn’t until they finish the whole bottle of champagne that Lightning realizes Vanille’s face is completely pink. 

“Oh, I…” Vanille sees that the other woman is just staring at her. “I’m really sorry, I’m talking too much, aren’t I? You’ve barely spoken at all.”

Lightning shakes her head. “I barely speak at all, anyway. It doesn’t matter.” She stands and heads into the kitchen to get another bottle. She’s thinking maybe _now_ they can have something harder than champagne? Because she really wants some vodka, but… okay, _nah_. That’s probably too much. She takes the same champagne and opens it by the sink this time before going back.

When she returns, Vanille greets her with a smile. “I did mention that I’m a lightweight, right?”

She shrugs. “Like I said, if you do end up passing out, I’ll let you stay over.”

“I’ll try not to pass out,” Vanille giggles. “That would be really embarrassing. And it’s been such a long time since I was able to just sit down and drink with a friend.”

“You don’t hang out with your friends back at Eden?” Lightning asks as she pours into their glasses.

“My friends…” Vanille hugs her knees. “They’re not around.”

A brow quirks upward. “Your friends don’t live in Eden?”

The girl just shakes her head, smiling as usual.

Lightning figures that it’s about her turn to ask questions. In a friendly way, of course. Can’t go scaring the girl off after she’s given such a normal vibe. “What about your family?”

“I, um,” Vanille begins sheepishly. “I’m actually an orphan.”

The weight of an anvil drops onto her chest and Lightning wishes she could swallow back the puke she just projected all over the girl. Metaphorically speaking, of course. “I’m sorry,” she says, and decides that she needs to back up her apology. “My… parents aren’t around anymore, either.”

Vanille looks at her with sympathetic eyes. “How old were you then?”

“Thirteen or so,” Lightning loosens up. She leans back against the sofa behind her and crosses her legs. “I was in class when the headmaster called for my name over the P.A,” she finishes with a shrug. “Been living alone since then.” _No she hasn’t._ There’s more she could and _should_ add, but she doesn’t. She’s too scared to.

“I’ve been living alone for a long time too,” Vanille places a hand over hers and gives her a gentle smile. “We finally have something in common, huh?” She comments, her voice soft.

This time, Lightning returns the smile.

And right away, she sees Vanille’s round, green eyes widen a little.

A normal reaction, if she can say so herself. Lightning doesn’t smile often, but she knows that when she does, the effect it creates is astronomical. She doesn’t normally pay much attention to it. Like, sure, she makes people’s heart beat faster and blush and whatever, but there never is a sense of accomplishment. It’s like when you finish a few shots with a random audience watching. They cheer for you and everything, but they’re not going to remember it for life.

But with Vanille, it feels different. Somehow.

For example, upon smiling, Lightning would immediately let it disappear. She smiles because it helps her achieve whatever it is she wants. She smiles because it increases her charisma by a few _hundredfold_. She knows this, and that’s why she doesn’t smile often. She _can’t._ But right now, she’s still smiling, and she can’t seem to stop it.. For once, it’s involuntary. Like some alien force is making her do it, but it doesn’t feel weird. It just gives her this warm feeling. It’s natural.

And it’s completely natural, when Lightning’s eyes dart down to Vanille’s slightly parted lips.

Vanille does it too, except she’s more timid about it.

Their eyes meet again at the same time, and there is a hidden intensity lingering around them. Lightning doesn’t realize that she is leaning closer while the girl is still as a statue. _Statuesque._

Their lips are a mere inch apart when Vanille gasps and turns away.

Lightning backs away in an instant, knowing that she fucked up. _Of course_ she did. People don’t turn away from her. _No one_ turns away from her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

Vanille shakes her head. “No, I… _I’m_ sorry. I think I’ve had too much to drink.” She stands up. That comfortable feeling around them having turned into something entirely awkward.

Lightning stands with her. She wants to tell her to sit down, she wants to tell her that she’s sorry a few _million_ more times, and she wants to punch herself right then and there for acting like a horny bitch. But she just spreads her arms because she thinks Vanille is about to keel over.

And she does. Cliché as hell, but she does.

Lightning doesn’t wrap her arms around the girl like she thought she would, however. She just steadies her and helps her stand.

“Thank you,” Vanille says, in a voice so small Lightning can barely hear. “I think… I should go.”

“I’ll walk you back.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I just walked you home. If you walk me back, then that would be quite ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Vanille laughs.

“You can barely stand.” Lightning argues.

“I’m fine, really,” she insists. “Just some fresh air and my head will be clear.”

“But—”

“Please don’t.” Vanille interrupts. “Please don’t worry for me.” And this time, her voice is firm, determined. But her eyes are wavering—like they’re troubled. Like she has _more_ to say. Her mouth is hung open slightly and she definitely has more to say. “I… I’m not…”

Lightning wants her to speak. She wants Vanille to voice out whatever the hell she wants because if she heads out of the door now, Lightning may never get to hear it again.

But she doesn’t. Vanille offers her a last, sad smile. “Thank you for everything.” And she walks past the taller woman.

“Wait.” Lightning snaps and her voice echoes in the room. Another voice in her head echoes, asking her _what the hell_ she thinks she’s doing, but she ignores it. She _needs_ to do this. Lightning spins around, facing Vanille’s back. “Do you have to go?”

Vanille stiffens. “Yeah,” she doesn’t turn around when she speaks. “If I don’t, I…”

Lightning watches her shoulder shake. Then, Vanille turns to her. Yet another sad smile. Lightning likes it better when she smiles genuinely with happiness. It suits her more.

“It’s the timing,” Vanille says. “Maybe if it’s right, I would stay longer.” She backs away. “Goodbye, Lightning.”

And Lightning just stands there lifelessly as Vanille exits her condo.

.  
.

Shit, shit, _shit._

Lightning is tired and cranky and _pissed_ the fuck off but she’s still pacing herself. She’s drank like a three cups of plain coffee and she’s running on fumes. Or caffeine. Same thing. She’s a pretty fast runner—probably faster than most of the men in her squad (hence the name), but when she’s tired and is high on caffeine, her speed would be kind of unstable.

But she’s still running. She’s running with her hands stuffed in her pocket and she’s fiddling nervously with the moldy bill of her grocery shopping list from yesterday. It’s about 4:55am and the station is about to open. She’s thought about it the entire night and _knows_ that there is no excuse. She has to come here. She has to _be_ here, otherwise she won’t be able to sleep in peace for the rest of her life.

She arrives, and the workers are just opening the gates. The people queuing pick up their luggage and walk in single-file as per instructions. Lightning looks into the line, and does not see the one, specific person she’s come for. So she looks at the clock tower above the station. Exactly 5:00am. Well, Lightning’s on time, but what really _is_ time anyway? She has no idea when Vanille is going to come. Hell, the girl herself said that she hasn’t even bought the tickets yet. Who knows if she’d even come?

Lightning’s not going to leave, though. She’s come all this way.

…

… But then hours go by. Hours and _hours._ The dark sky turns bright blue and the temperature rises. Not exactly warm, but just about better than freezing. People come and go. They enter and leave the station. Lightning sees strangers and their families and friends exchange heartwarming embraces; she sees tearful goodbyes, and suddenly wonders if she could have done something like that. She wonders if she even has the right to _say_ goodbye. Not just to Vanille, but to—

The clock tower sounds. Lightning looks up. It sounds twelve times and it is noon.

Lightning thinks her timing is shit.

Bright blue turns orange, and orange turns navy, and navy turns black. It turns cold and the streetlights turn on. Lightning sighs. The Bodhum Train Station only has one gigantic entrance, so there is no way she missed her. Maybe she’s just not coming. There is relief in there somewhere, but the paranoid part of her still screams that Vanille’s probably left.

The clock tower sounds again, like it does every hour. Seven times.

She looks at the clock again. The small hand points to a gigantic _VII._ And it’s really odd how she can change so quickly. Just around twenty-four hours ago, she was going all OCD and ADHD, shopping for dinner. Just around twenty-four hours ago, she was angry, moody. Just around twenty-four hours ago, she only wanted to be home. It’s odd that she’s come so far. Literally. From her condo to the station is like a half an hour walk. But if Lightning’s not thinking so literally, she admits that as a person, she has changed quite drastically in the past twenty-four hours.

For one— _she looks away from the tower—_ when she sees this girl, standing in front of her, she knows around twenty-four hours ago, she wouldn’t be smiling so much like an idiot that she is right now.

“You’re here.” Said girl greets her with a smile that is way more adorable than her own.

For another, Lightning knows that twenty-four hours ago, she wouldn’t even bother responding. “Yeah,” she says. Her cheeks are starting to hurt, but she can’t stop smiling. “Your timing is pretty bad.”

Vanille laughs, and it is the rich, charming sound that Lightning adores. “Usually it’s okay. It’s only when I’m uncertain that it gets out of hand.”

“What were you uncertain of?”

Vanille takes a step closer. She clasps her hands behind herself. “Whether to come here, or to go to you.”

A pause, and then Lightning’s eyes widen a little at the realization.

“It wasn’t until fifteen minutes ago that the security guard came out and told me that you weren’t home. Good thing he recognized me, but I must’ve looked like the biggest creeper,” she chuckles, feeling silly. “So, that was when I figured that you are probably here.”

Lightning hears herself laughing. It’s soft, but it’s been a while. “So the guard has the worst timing of all, huh?”

Vanille laughs along, happiness brimming from her beautiful voice. “If only he told me sooner,”

“We wouldn't be starving.” Lightning says.

“Yeah,” she giggles. “And if I wasn’t in such a rush, running here like a maniac, I probably would’ve gotten you some flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” Lightning tilts her head. “Why flowers?”

“Well…” Vanille stutters, “I just thought… if I were being courted, I would want flowers as gifts. I just thought that it’d be the same for other girls.” She looks at her feet, and then back up at Lightning, who is bearing a bored expression. “Do you… not like flowers?”

Lightning just stares at her. “No, I do like them,” she explains flatly. “Just. You really _were_ courting me, huh?”

“I thought I was being quite obvious…”

Lightning rolls her eyes. She stuffs a hand into the pocket of her sweater and pulls out the grocery shopping bill she was playing with earlier. “You would want flowers if you were being courted?”

Vanille nods.

Lightning shakes her head and lets out a breath of amusement. Then she starts straightening the piece of paper as well as she can and folds it into a triangle, then a square, then a triangle again, then some more triangles, until it somewhat resembles a flower. “Here,” she says, handing the piece of origami to the girl.

Vanille blinks. Took a moment, but she finally takes the piece into her hands. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. It’s like she’s talking to herself. When she looks up again, her cheeks are pink. “Thank you,” she tiptoes.

And Lightning is reduced into a pile of goo when those soft lips touch her cheek.

.  
.


	3. kiss

When she wakes up, she is not lying in bed. She isn’t naked, and she doesn’t feel sticky and gross and she isn’t hungover. Lightning is awake, sitting awkwardly on the same living room floor covered by that sheepskin rug, and she is resting her head just as awkwardly on the sofa.

And the most awkward thing is, Vanille’s face is right in front of hers. Like, literally two inches away. If Lightning so as much as tilt forward, they would probably bump foreheads. Now, why she would want to do that is beyond her, but the thought is there. Maybe she’s thinking so weirdly because of all the champagne. Like she said, she’s not hungover or anything, but they _did_ drink some more after coming home from dinner. It was all good though; Lightning finds it weird that Vanille would agree, but it seems like the girl would agree to anything she suggests. So. There’s that.

Speaking of the girl— _Lightning shifts her wandering attention to her—_ she’s so freaking adorable. The room is still lit, and if Lightning has to guess, it’s probably three in the morning or something. She doesn’t really care. It’s not like she has work tomorrow, anyway. They’ve fallen asleep together. Not together _together_. As in, probably not at the same time, but… _well._ Lightning shifts a little, backing away the slightest just so she can get a better look at her.

Her pale lips part and come together, synchronizing with the rising and falling of her shoulders. Lightning realizes now that they’re so close, she can see that Vanille’s lashes are naturally long. Maybe as long as her own, and being the self-conscious person she is, Lightning knows that she has really long and lush eyelashes. Lightning lets out a breath. It’s like a sigh, but not really, because she isn’t exactly saddened about something. It’s more like a sigh of relief— _okay,_ there you go. She’s relieved. For some reason. Lightning doesn’t really know why, nor does she want to delve too deeply into the matter, but she does know that she is getting _some_ form of relief by looking at the redhead lying asleep on her sofa.

… in her condo.

Her place.

_Oh._

This is what she wanted originally. _Wow._ Is she lucky or what? How easy it would be to just have Vanille come home with her. Again. Except Lightning doesn’t exactly want Vanille to be like the others. Doesn’t want it to be a one-night thing. Doesn’t want _just_ one night. Not that she doesn’t want to sleep with her, but. Y’know. With Vanille, it’s just different. Like, for one (or for many) Lightning’s experienced a series of _firsts_ when it comes to Vanille. She didn’t meet her at a nightclub. They were both sober when they first conversed. She invited Vanille into her home, sober. She restraint herself even though she usually wouldn’t. As in, she didn’t sleep with her. And finally, she chased after her. Lightning _chose_ to chase Vanille. Not because she wants to sleep with her, but, _um_ , she doesn’t really know.

Lightning blushes at the thought. _See,_ it’s embarrassing when she thinks about it so much, so she best not.

Still, she wants to know. Exactly _what_ are they now? Just friends? More than friends? Well, they can’t exactly be ‘couple’ yet. Like, they’ve known each other for less than twelve hours, technically. There’s probably a very specific word that describes their relationship. Lightning just can’t really think straight right now.

Vanille stirs in her sleep, and Lightning stops trying to think.

Then, she opens her eyes. Blank, hazy green orbs blink slowly. For a second, Lightning thinks she is looking at a soulless person. But when Vanille looks at her, those eyes return to the bright emerald colour she is familiar with. “Hello.” She smiles, her voice tired.

Lightning tries to keep her voice smooth. “You fell asleep.”

“Mmn…” she rubs her eyes before breaking into a grin. “I know you did too.”

“It was getting late.” Lightning reasons.

“You could’ve gone to your bed…” Vanille pouts, looking somewhat guilty.

Lightning’s heart sways a little at the adorable sight. “I,” she looks away, “couldn’t leave you alone out here.”

Vanille, who is still lying sideways on the sofa, just smiles. “This is the reason I wonder why you’re single.”

Her eyelids flutter rapidly. She’s not, strictly saying, offended, but Vanille did take her by surprise.

And seeing this, Vanille giggles. “I mean to say, you’re really sweet, Lightning. And you’re so beautiful, too.”

This time, Lightning blushes so hard she actually forgets to turn away. She just stays there, stunned. For a second, she forgets how to breathe and all she can hear, can _notice_ is her heart hammering against her ribcage. “Uh,” she clears her throat, struggling to formulate her words. “Thank you.”

There is a moment of silence that follows her words. Lightning thinks it’s because Vanille is waiting for her to go on—after all, just a _thank you_ is lame as hell. Like, _come on._ It’s her cue to talk back! Lightning has to continuously remind herself that she doesn’t need alcohol or the nightclub to be good at flirting. If she can do it drunk, she can _most definitely_ do it sober. It’s like she can beat up stalkers when she’s drunk. By contrast, beating people up is way more difficult than flirting, right?

But when she summons enough willpower and courage to carry on the conversation, she sees Vanille still grinning at her. And all the courage she’s gathered a second ago disappears just like that. Lightning looks away, praying to the gods that Vanille can’t see how red her face is.

“Lightning,”

But Vanille calls her name, and she has no choice but to look back. That grin of hers softens into a gentle smile. Her round, emerald green eyes twinkle like stars beneath the lights of the room. They are so bright and beautiful and nice and _did she mention sparkly?_ Lightning shakes herself back to her senses. Can’t go looking like an idiot again. But, like, how can she not? With eyes like those, _anyone_ would lose their minds. They’re just. Entrancing?? Dreamy? _Ugh._ These words are so cheesy.

“I’m glad that I am able to meet you.” Vanille suddenly continues.

Okay, well, not suddenly. Mere seconds have past since she’s last spoken, but it definitely _felt_ like a year or something because she’s acting so damn ridiculous right now. And, ridiculous as she is, Lightning just stares in response.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve come across in a long time,” she says softly. “Honestly, nothing’s good ever happened to me since… well, I can’t really remember. So, I, um…” Vanille pauses to chuckle, and her cheeks turn pink. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think I really like you.”

Lightning’s eyes widen. Like, _bulge._ Her jaw is probably hanging loose as well. And she doesn’t know if she’s actively breathing or not. The room is spinning. It’s heating up. _Oh god._ Is she still alive?!

“Oh, Lightning, you’re—” Vanille laughs. She sits up and Lightning’s eyes follow her every move. “Your face is so red! It looks like you’re about to explode, oh my goodness!” Vanille pulls her up onto the sofa and goes on giggling so adorably Lightning wonders if she’s human. “I’m so sorry, Lightning. Are you okay?” Vanille is apologizing, but she is still very apparently laughing.

This. _This_ Lightning doesn’t know how to deal with.

Oh, here’s another first. First time not knowing how to deal with that pounding heart, spinning head, and flushing face of hers. Wow. Three at a time. Vanille’s really hitting the jackpot, isn’t she?

The fact that she is currently fighting a losing war against her conscience, which is clearly taunting her, doesn’t stop Lightning from remembering that she is trying to be _nice._ She clears her throat,” I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, just…” she swallows. Lightning has several responses she wants to use, some of which include: _you scared me. Nobody’s ever been so forward with me. I like you too._ But she ends up with, “… Um.”

It seems as though Vanille can see that she is having a hard time though, because despite how stupid of an answer she has given, the girl has stopped herself from laughing, and is rubbing Lightning’s back. “Feeling better?”

Lightning just nods. Not that she has anything to say, anyway. Or if she can form a coherent sentence.

“Say, Lightning.” Vanille starts. “I think I’m going to live at an inn, after all.”

She blinks. Oh man, did she do something wrong _again_? Is her creeper side showing form? What the _hell_ happened?!

Smiling, Vanille shakes her head. ”It has nothing to do with you, Lightning, please don’t be mistaken. I just… think that moving in is kind of too soon…”

_Oh._ Lightning could roll her eyes. But she doesn’t. “It’s not like I’m not charging you. You still have to pay rent, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Vanille says. “You’re being so nice to me, Lightning…”

She tilts her head slightly. So… is Vanille saying that she’s being suspicious? So she _is_ being creeper. _Oh god—_

“Oh, I don’t mean that you’re being suspicious or anything!” Vanille quickly adds. “It just makes me feel so guilty, y’know? We’ve only just met. And in such an odd setting, too. You thought I was trying to kill myself for goodness’ sake! Don’t I weird you out?”

Lightning begs herself to not say anything stupid. To just say whatever is on her mind, because that’s how she usually gets through things. “Only if you keep rejecting my offer.” Okay. A bit rude, but. _Okay._

Vanille pouts, clearly dissatisfied with her answer.

Lightning sighs. She needs to try harder. “Look, it’s fine, okay? If anything—” _try harder!_ “—I, uh, I like your company.” She gnaws at her lower lip as she waits for Vanille to speak up. When she doesn’t, Lightning _knows_ that she isn’t trying hard enough. “I mean, I… I don’t exactly like living alone,” she says. “It’s been a while since my parents died, and I’m used to it, but still. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone here.”

Immediately, Vanille’s expression falls. She scoots closer to Lightning and takes her hand.

Lightning accepts the gesture quite naturally. “That’s why I would like it,” she says, smiling, “if you stayed.”

Vanille blushes beautifully and returns the smile. She holds onto her hand. Her warm grip radiates a sort of familiarity, and Lightning concludes that it is a very comforting feeling. “If…” her voice cracks, as if she’s about to cry because she’s just heard the most emotional speech of all time. “If you are willing to have me, Lightning. I would be happy to stay.”

.  
.

On Sundays, Lightning usually spends her time at the gym, where she would run her heart out. Or, she would spend her time along the seawall… also running her heart out.

Today, Lightning decides that she can break out of her routine and do something different. Hanging out with Vanille seems like an okay idea. No, Lightning knows it’s more than okay. She knows she _wants_ to hang out with Vanille. She’s just being difficult.

The dinner she’s bought from two nights ago ends up being their breakfast, and despite Vanille’s protests, Lightning insists that this first meal is on the house. Of course, Vanille just pouts and starts going on about how she feels bad, and Lightning would act as though she’s annoyed and everything, but she’s ultimately amused by the girl’s reactions. Any of her reactions, really.

“You’re making me regret my decision, Lightning…” Vanille drones, her shoulders slouch as she picks at her salad.

Lightning sighs. She doesn’t know how many times she’s said ‘it’s fine’ in the past two days, but she will most definitely be saying it more. “I said it’s fine.”

Vanille gives her a look, then she continues to pick her salad. “Okay, I’ve made up my mind.”

Lightning looks up from her breakfast, fully alerted. It’s like she’s scared that Vanille’s going to move out or something. Which she is.

“I’m going to find a job today, and I will pay you the entire rent as soon as the paycheque comes out.”

She tries to hide it, but a small crack of her smile slips out. Lightning ends up smirking. “Okay. What kind of job are you planning to look for?” She asks, hiding it quickly. Good thing Vanille isn’t looking.

Said girl exhales. “I don’t really know. I guess… it doesn’t matter. As long as I can earn enough money to pay the rent.”

_Doesn’t matter._ Lightning sees her troubled expression and understands her struggle. She knows that she shouldn’t, and definitely _wouldn't_ if this were about herself. But technically, this isn’t about her. It’s about Vanille. Vanille needs help. She’s just helping Vanille. “I know you don't want my help,” she starts.

Vanille looks up.

“But,” she continues, trying to play it as casual as possible, “if I don’t do something, you’ll be stressed out, and it’ll get me stressed out, and it just won’t be good for either one of us.” Lightning sees that Vanille isn’t giving her any sort of funny looks, so she goes on. “I have this friend,” she says, looking down at her own plate of salad. “She, uh, owns this bar. Works with a couple of other guys, and it gets quite busy. Maybe you can try there.”

“Oh, a bar!” Vanille exclaims, clapping her hands together. “I—oh… I don’t think I have a high enough alcohol tolerance level to work at a bar…”

Lightning crosses her arms. “Two of the guys who work there can’t drink, either. Yet, one is a bouncer and another is a bartender-in-training. And he’s not even of age.”

“Wait, the bouncer’s not of age?!”

“No, no,” she says, “the bartender.”

Vanille gawks. “And you’re okay with that?”

She shrugs. “Kid’s just trying to earn a living. He doesn’t have anyone to support him.”

“Wow…” Vanille relaxes on the stool. She chuckles.

Lightning raises a brow.

The girl stops laughing when all the woman has is a confused face. “You really are a nice person.” And she just gazes at her with the softest eyes.

Lightning’s heart leaps when she catches those round eyes and instinctively looks away. “Anyway, are you up for it?”

“Well,” Vanille sighs. She finally stabs a small piece of chicken with her fork and brings it to her lips. Lightning was starting to wonder if she was going to even eat or not. “Like you said, if I don’t find a job soon, I’m just going to bring this stressed, unhealthy atmosphere into your lovely home.” She pauses to chew on her food, expression thoughtful. “So, yes. I am up for it.” Vanille flashes Lightning a smile as she finishes.

.  
.

According to Vanille, it is completely okay to not worry about the rent for her home back at Eden, solely because she doesn’t actually own a place. Apparently, because of the pricing at the capital, Vanille is forced to move every once in a while. The landlords jack up the price just when she’s comfortable, and as a result, she would have to find another job to compensate for the pay, _and_ , as a result, she wouldn’t have any time to sleep at home anyway, so, yeah. She would always end up finding some place else to live, and the cycle just repeats.

Hearing that, Lightning feels somewhat better about living in this boring town. So much for moving out of Bodhum. Fucking Eden just destroyed her hopes _._ Perhaps Lightning should consider moving to Academia. Or even the Sunleth Waterscape. Or, she can consider moving to another country. Gaia, or even Spira seem nice. Yes, the latter would definitely be nice with the warm climate and all. Plus, she’s always wanted to visit Zanarkand.

“Lightning?” Vanille catches her attention.

She takes her eyes off the road and turns to the girl.

“I… honestly don’t have any qualifications though. Are you sure your friend will hire me?”

Lightning stuffs her hands into the pockets of her hoodie before shrugging. “She never says no to me.” Actually, nobody ever says no to her, now that she thinks about it. But that’s not the point here. “It’ll be fine. If she’s not hiring, I’m sure she can refer you to another job or something.”

“Mmn…” Vanille taps her chin, still clearly very doubtful.

The girl’s concern is radiating like some invisible aura so unsettling it gives off a subzero-like temperature. Lightning rolls her eyes to the horrible analogy her mind just created and speaks up, “Look, I’m not even going to ask for your rent until the end of the month, so you can take your time finding a job, okay?”

“I appreciate your kindness,” Vanille says softly, “but I still have to find the money to pay for my meals. I have enough money for a few more days, but after that, I’m not just going to loot off your fridge. That will be quite ridiculous of me, wouldn’t it?”

Lightning thinks if she rolls her eyes again they might just fall out. “I usually buy more than enough for myself anyway. You can just—”

“No, Lightning.” Her voice is firm. Wow. Lightning didn’t think the tiny girl had it in her. She’s always so kind and sweet and cute. It’s kind of ironic. Almost reminds her of—“I’ll pay for my own meals and that’s final, okay?”

Her shoulders droop. Lightning has never handled a more persistent person. Even the most troublesome criminals she’s caught in the past submit easier. This girl is just. _Ugh._ It annoys the crap out of Lightning because it’s not like she can hand Vanille off to someone else to deal with. Not that she wants to, anyway. Like, Vanille’s not a criminal. She’s not a stranger. She’s not… _any_ of those. She’s Vanille. And it’s already established that Lightning has (yes, she’ll admit it) grown quite fond of her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have stood in front of the station for fourteen hours. She wouldn’t have opened up to her about her being-alone-complex. She wouldn’t feel so bad about accepting rent from her.

It’s annoying, because Vanille is different, in the sense that Lightning thinks she just _might_ have the capacity to care for her. The stoic, emotionless soldier she is known to be actually has the capacity to care. So, yeah. Lightning thinks it’s annoying that Vanille makes her feel that way.

“Speaking of,” Vanille starts. Lightning’s eyes dart towards her as they continue walking. “One of these days, I want to make you a proper homemade meal.”

Lightning’s eyelids flutter. Well. That certainly was unexpected.

“Oh, not to say that your salad was bad, but I want to make you something bigger—kind of like a buffet! If there’s one thing I’m proud of about myself, it’s my cooking skills.” Vanille grins. She makes her way ahead of the taller woman and walks backwards.

The graceful way she walks almost make it seem like she’s dancing. Then again, Lightning thinks everything Vanille does is pretty, so maybe she’s just being stupid. She clears her throat. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm!” Vanille nods. “I think it’s because I love food so much.”

She smiles. Lightning is starting to get used to the naturalness of it. How weird. “You’re so skinny though,” she remarks as she remembers how bony Vanille’s arm felt the other night.

“Well,” the girl explains, “when it’s just myself, I don’t have the will to cook. And I’ve been by myself for a while, so, y’know.” Somehow, she is able to break into a bright smile again. “But now that there’s more than just me, I can finally cook again.”

She realizes that there is no point in arguing. If Vanille wants then Vanille gets. It’s not like Lightning is going to go against her in the first place. Plus, the girl’s confidence does make the whole thing sound intriguing. “I’ll look forward to it, then. I haven’t had good food for a while, anyway.”

“The breakfast you made this morning was good.” Vanille compliments.

“Please.” Lightning rolls her eyes. “Just mixing everything into a bowl is not real cooking.”

“Well, I liked it,” she says earnestly. “And at least it was healthy, right?”

Sighing, Lightning looks away. Why this girl even defends her is a mystery she will never care to solve. But. That’s just because she kind of already knows. _Kind of._ “You keep walking like that, you’re going to fall.” Lightning decides to talk about something else.

She doesn’t know if she’s obeying, but Vanille stops walking all together. “Hey, Lightning.”

The taller woman blinks. Her eyes involuntarily observe the girl from head to toe. _God, she’s pretty._ Lightning swallows. Vanille is kicking at her toes. Her arms folded behind her back and her posture is cute and stunning and beautiful and _oh god_ Lightning really needs to stop acting like a love-struck highschooler. Seriously.

Oh.

Wait, did she just _admit_ —

“I… I don’t really know what this is yet,” Vanille speaks with a small voice. She is hiding her face and is so obviously blushing. “This as in… us.”

Yeah, well, neither does she. Lightning swallows again. God. Her throat is getting dryer by the second.

“But I, um. I like it.” Vanille continues. She is still looking down at her feet and is trying so hard to go on despite how much smaller her voice has gotten. “I guess I already told you, huh?” she giggles, “that I like you. Granted, it’s nothing _too_ deep, yet. I mean, I do feel something big, y’know? It’s just… I think it has room to grow. Bigger.”

Her jaw flexes. Ugh, shit. Lightning _prays_ that it didn’t make her look stupid just now.

“I think what I’m _really_ trying to tell you is,” Vanille stresses on her words. “I want you to feel the same way towards me.” This time, when she finishes, she is looking directly at Lightning. “Is… is that too much to ask?”

And Lightning thinks her kneecaps exploded or something because she’s lost balance and she thinks she’s going to fall. But of course, that’s just her mind mocking her. She’s not going to fall. Like, come on. “Uh, um…” though, her mind does successfully make her sound like an idiot. Again. _Stop being an idiot, Lightning! Say something!_ Do _something!_

Vanille blushes. “I’m so sorry,” she says, concern spreading over her expression like wildfire. “I’ve been told that I’m always too honest… I-I’m so sorry—”

“No,” Lightning interrupts. She knows she is as pink as her hair, but she needs to push on. “I like honest.” She says. “I do feel the same for you.” _Oh god._ Was that too blunt? Too plain? It was really abrupt, so maybe she came off as rude again? Oh god. Lightning stares at the shorter girl, trying to get a read on her. And, for a moment, Vanille’s face is unreadable. But slowly, it becomes brighter, and so does Lightning’s heart.

“Then… let’s say we give it some time to grow?” Vanille suggests, smiling timidly.

The girl’s still blushing. And, _wow,_ the effect it has on Lightning is. _Damn it._ “Yeah.” She smiles back just because Vanille’s is infectious.

And then Vanille is just standing there. Looking at her toes. Hands still behind herself. It’s like she’s waiting for something. She looks like a little girl, who has just been confessed to, and is now waiting for a kiss—

_…_

_Oh. OH._

Lightning near chokes on her own spit. She clears her throat subtly to hide such embarrassment. Lightning looks at Vanille again just to confirm her theory.

Vanille’s head is down, but for a split second, she peeks up. And it is in that split second that Lightning realizes—

_Yep._

Yep. She’s waiting for a kiss. So, through valiant efforts of dragging random strangers from nightclubs to her home and then proceeding to do more than just give them kisses, Lightning can’t seem to do a fraction of that here. She argues that it’s because she’s out of her comfort zone, but _oh,_ who is she kidding?

Time freezes. Well, at least it feels like it has. The occasional jogger that runs by them is nonexistent. The sky, the clouds, the sun, the waves, every _element_ in the universe pauses and is allowing them this moment.

Lightning reaches for Vanille’s hand and grips it loosely. Like she’s trying to get her attention. Like she’s asking for permission. And when Vanille’s delicate fingers grip back with the same, weak strength, their contrasting eyes meet. Lightning sees now under the morning light how deep and vivid the flecks of emerald are in Vanille’s pupils, and it is, in fact, quite hypnotizing. Honestly, she doesn’t have a better word to describe them. So whatever. She’s been told by many people that her own blue ones are sharp, icy, and maybe even scary. Lightning wholeheartedly agrees, especially on the third point.

“Your eyes are so beautiful.” Vanille whispers, her soft voice blends in with the sound of waves in the background.

She hesitates, thoroughly confused because this is the first time she’s heard such a compliment.

“They’re so blue, they’re almost silver,” Vanille goes on. And it is genuine, Lightning knows, because no on ever looks at her like this. Like they’re admiring a piece of artwork. Sure, people do that when she’s naked, but frankly, she isn’t right now, so. “You’re so beautiful.” Vanille says.

Lightning doesn’t know what to say. She was never good at conveying her thoughts through words anyway. So she just leans down slightly and tilts her head to get a better angle.

Strange.

But she doesn’t move any further. Their lips are a mere inch apart and Lightning doesn’t move in. Vanille’s eyes have closed and hers are half-lidded, yet still, she doesn’t move in. Lightning processes quickly why it is that she can’t. She comes with a million absurd excuses, some of which include her being out of comfort zone— _again._ Another suggesting that it’s because it’s too early in the morning. Which. Just doesn’t make sense. But Lightning understands well enough why. She’s just too scared to admit it.

But she has to.

“Vanille,” she starts, realizing that it’s the first time she’s calling her by name.

The girl opens her eyes slowly, and there is disappointment in them, because she doesn’t look directly at Lightning right away.

“I…” Lightning pushes herself to speak. “I want to kiss you. I really do.”

Vanille looks crestfallen.

She grips onto her smaller hand protectively. As if her hold on her would stable her. At least, that’s what she thinks it would do. “But before I do, I have to tell you something,” she hesitates. “About me.”

Vanille is staring at her with those wide, innocent eyes. And Lightning wants to punch herself for doing this, but she has to. If she doesn’t, it’ll be unfair to Vanille.

“I’m… I’m not as good of a person as you think I am,” she starts.

A sudden, weak ocean breeze brushes by them and their hair flutter in their eyes. Vanille pulls the strands behind her ear and listens on.

“If I want this to grow into something bigger—and I do—I need to tell you this. I—when I first saw you, I just wanted to, like. I, just—”

“Lightning,” Vanille cuts in with her soft voice. She smiles warmly. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if it’s so hard. The fact that you’re trying proves how good of a person you are. And honestly, it doesn’t matter what you’ve done. I-I’ve…” she pauses. Then, suddenly, she pulls her hand away and takes a step back. “Compared to you, I can never be so upfront about my feelings.”

She quirks a brow. “But you’re the one to confess.”

Vanille laughs, and it is a melancholic one. “That’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” She spins on her heel and walks off. “I guess that means we shouldn’t kiss yet, huh?”

Lightning’s heart drops. Or an anvil has dropped on it. Something like that. Because she feels a sort of heaviness pushing against it. She was so fucking close, what the _fuck_ was she thinking, playing the honesty game at a time like that? She’s ruined her opportunity. “Vanille—”

“Kiss me,” Vanille turns once again to face her. She is smiling and the morning light seems to reflect off of it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Lightning breathes in. She starts walking. She needs to catch up to her. She wants to _reach for her—_ “Are _you_?”

Vanille starts walking again just as Lightning catches up. “I will know,” she says without looking at the taller woman, “when you kiss me.”

And for the rest of the way, the two do not speak. Lightning just doesn’t know what to say, but she doesn’t know why even the talkative Vanille doesn’t try to make conversation.

_God._ She must’ve fucked up again.

.  
.

They arrive at their destination. A nice, secluded area at the end of the beach. It’s nice that everything is within a thirty-minute walking distance from her home. Saves the cab money (except when she goes to clubs but— _ugh—_ stop thinking about it) and it makes everything so freaking convenient.

“We’re here.” Lightning says. The first words since twenty minutes ago. The bar doesn’t open until six in the evening or so, but she knows that the crew is usually restocking at this time. Vanille follows her as they approach the cute, cabin-like bar. There’s a nice patio up front with tables set up—perfect for outdoor drinking. Lightning admits that the view plus the atmosphere is absolutely unparalleled in the summer, but right now isn’t summer. And whoever decides to drink out here at night is either insane or suicidal. They enter through the main entrance and Lightning quickly loses her patience when no one greets her. Well, she loses her patience partly because she’s pissed off at herself, but. That’s a different story. “Anyone here?” she calls out.

“We’re not opened!” says a voice in the back room.

Lightning grunts. “Yes, you are.”

There is a pause, and then a head sticks out from the room. The head has this confused look at first, but then slowly, his squinty eyes widen and so does his mouth. “Light!” the owner of the head (as in, the body) jumps out, overjoyed, and runs towards Lightning. He is big and muscular and tall and tan and has this weird, faux-hawk orange hair that is completely out of style.

“Don’t. Don’t hug me.” Lightning warns.

The man sounds like he is barking as he laughs. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Light! It’s just been so long! Hey, does Lebreau know that you’re coming! Hey! Lebreau, Light’s here!”

Lightning rolls her eyes. They always make it such a big deal. She just hopes that Vanille can adjust to their rowdiness. But then, glimpsing at the girl in question beside her, it seems like she’s doing alright. As in, she seems pretty excited right now.

“… who?” a woman’s voice calls from the same room.

“Light! It’s Light!”

“Light _who_?” her head pokes out. “Oh! Lightning!” and so does her body. She sprints out of the room in the same manner as the man, except she actually throws her arms around the soldier girl. “Oh my, it’s been too long! You never visit!”

Lightning doesn’t return the hug. “Been busy.”

The woman known as Lebreau simply scoffs. “Uh huh. Busy.” She shifts her attention to the shorter, more cheerful-looking girl. And then she grins slyly. “Of course you’ve been busy doing… _things._ ”

Lightning glares daggers at the woman. She stands in front of Vanille protectively and begins. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Now, now…” being the biggest of everyone here, the man has a rather soft voice. Probably because he’s scared or something. “Let’s… not start a fight. I mean, come on! It’s been so long and the first thing you two do is fight?”

“Oh, I’m not starting anything,” Lebreau teases. “Miss _Farron_ here is just being difficult.”

Lightning crosses her arms. “Me? Being difficult? You’re—”

“Lightning.” Vanille calls. Said woman stops in a snap of a finger and looks to her. Vanille simply greets her with a small smile.

She sighs. Right. This isn’t the time to lose her temper. She’s done plenty of that inside her head. Lightning steps aside and gestures to the girl. “This is Vanille.”

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” She says.

The two blink at the simple introduction. Then they turn to each other and blink again. Lebreau, being the one who actually thinks faster, is the first to speak up. “No way.”

Vanille blinks curiously and Lightning just huffs.

Lebreau’s jaw is dropped to the ground. “Light—is she…? Are you _finally_ —”

“No.” Lightning says. _At least not yet._

Vanille just clasps her hands together, not questioning their cryptic language.

“Okay, then, uh…” Lebreau is grinning, and she oddly resembles the biggest gossip girl in the neighbourhood, just waiting to let everybody know of said gossip. “Did you…?”

“No.” Lightning says again. This answer is probably far from _‘yet’_ , even if it’s what got her talking to Vanille in the first place.

“Wow. So, you two are just…?”

“Uh huh.” Lightning grunts. She shakes her head. What the hell is she doing? “Look, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time. Can you help out or not?”

The man’s face twists into a whirl of confusion. “Help out _what_? Can you two stop speaking in this weird language? God, you women are so…”

Vanille laughs. “It’s okay, mister. I don’t really know what they’re saying anyway.”

And it looks as though the man is swooning to her sweet voice. Lightning would be too, if she weren’t so preoccupied with the conversation and her internal conflict over _nothing._  

“Light wants us to hire her.” Lebreau explains simply.

“What?!” his stances straightens and it looks like his ears have perked up as well.

Vanille’s round eyes twinkle as her lids flutter. “Y-you… you were able to get that without even talking about it?”

“We did talk,” Lightning says. “Just.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Not normally, I guess.”

“Light, here, isn’t really a people-person. She hates talking, socializing, and just being around humans in general. You can call her a natural hermit,” Lebreau chuckles. “Pardon me, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Lebreau, the head barmaid of the NORA Bar.”

“And I’m Gadot!” the man cuts in easily. “I’m the bouncer, and I’m probably the best in all of Bodhum. It’s nice to meet you, little miss!” he reaches for her hand and shakes it with vigour. 

Vanille giggles at his enthusiasm. “It’s nice to meet the both of you,” she says.

“Mmn…” in the background, Lebreau is observing Vanille’s every movement. Lightning’s realized that since she sprinted out of the room, but now it’s becoming way too obvious to ignore.

“What are you looking at?” she asks.

Lebreau ignores the soldier and stares on. “Just seeing if she’s hot enough to work here. I mean she has nice legs and all, so…”

Vanille blushes to the comment, and Lightning tries hard not to voice out that she agrees. Instead, “Hey. Don’t you dare do anything weird to her.”

“How can I?” Lebreau raises her hands defensively. “You’re practically planning how to kill me already. If I actually plan on doing _something_ , I’d probably lost my head by now. And I’m not speaking figuratively, little girl.” She directs her last comment to Vanille. “But you are cute, I’ll give you that. I’m guessing you’ll help me draw a ton of customers, yeah?”

Hearing that, Lightning can’t help but to get slightly concerned. She turns to the girl. “You okay with that?”

She giggles. “As long as I don’t have to dance for them or anything. I can’t dance.”

Lebreau waves her hands. “Oh no, you won’t have to do anything like that, I promise you. This isn’t a strip club or anything.”

Vanille nods happily.

Gadot, who looks like he’s completely left out in the dark, feels that he should say something. “So… you’re going to hire her, right?” he questions, strangely with a ton of anticipation.

“Well, yeah. Of course. It’s not like I’m going to say no to Lightning. I mean, hello?”

“YES!” Gadot jumps high into the air, and Lightning wonders why he looks happier than Vanille. That isn’t to say that the girl in question isn’t happy. She’s grinning adorably and is just. Cute as hell.

“When do I start?” Vanille asks, still wearing that huge grin on her face.

Lebreau taps her chin with a finger. “Hm, let’s say, tomorrow? Sundays are kind of real busy, so I don’t want to let you get into the hard stuff so soon. Plus,” she rolls her eyes, “it’s not like Light’s going to let me do it anyway. So there you go. Come back tomorrow at five in the afternoon, and I’ll tell you what you’ll be doing, okay? It’s probably just going to be serving tables.”

“Okay!” She nods eagerly, and her perfect pigtails bounce with her enthusiasm. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, I… I didn’t think I would get hired right on the spot. I was prepared to tell you what I can do, too…”

“Psh, there’s no need for that. Any friend of Light’s is a friend of ours,” Lebreau reaches out a hand. “So, let’s say we have a great time together, yeah?”

Vanille’s grin is so wide Lightning thinks that if she were doing it, her face would split. But thing is, Vanille is doing it, so it only serves to make her look beautiful. “Yeah! I’ll do my best!”

“Go along now. Your hours are going to be from five to two in the morning tomorrow, so you best enjoy early mornings while you still can.”

Gadot laughs. “Yeah. Soon you’re going to become night owls like us.” He yawns. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go hit the sack now. Been a long night. See you tomorrow, little miss!”

Vanille waves him goodbye.

“Uh huh. And leave the rest of the restocking to me, right?” Lebreau groans. But she doesn’t say anything else when he disappears into the back. She just sighs. Lightning knows that it’s because she’s nice. If she were in her place, she would never let Gadot go. Hell, she’d make the guy finish the job. But. She isn’t Lebreau. So, yeah. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Vanille. And Light, there’s no excuse for you to not visit anymore, now that your girlfriend is working here.”

Their faces turn crimson simultaneously and they look at everything but each other.

Lebreau sees the entire thing and just smirks. “Whoops. Said something delicate, didn’t I?” she sticks out a tongue. “Have a good day, you two.” And she walks back into the bar.

Several minutes pass by. Or maybe it’s just seconds. But Lightning can’t bring herself to speak up. Maybe she’s just too embarrassed. Or maybe it’s because if she moves _at all_ , she’ll start to think—to _really, really_ think about Lebreau’s words.

But of course, she doesn’t have to be the first to speak up. It’s always Vanille. “Um, so. I was wondering.”

“Y-yeah?” she slaps herself mentally for stuttering.

Vanille bites at her lower lip. “If we can’t kiss yet, maybe we can, I don’t know…” she looks up at Lightning, “hold hands?”

Lightning’s cheeks burn and she thinks she’s redder than the cape she wears for her Guardian Corps uniform. And that thing’s not even red. It’s like. Crimson or something. God. Now _that’s_ intense. Stupidly, she holds out her hand. It’s like she’s having a seizure or something, because it’s shaking like crazy. At least in her mind it looks like she’s shaking. It’s probably just her mind playing around again.

“Sure.” She manages.

Vanille blushes prettily and Lightning will never get enough of how cute the girl looks and how much she wants to hug her and kiss her.

But when Vanille takes her hand, Lightning wonders why she can’t _actually_ do what she wants to her. She wants to, she wants to _so_ badly, but she can’t hug her. She knows what she has to do to be ready, but she just can’t kiss her.

_Sigh._

The things she wants are always laid out right in front of her, but she never seems to know how to pick them up. Or, perhaps she does. She’s just bad at treasuring them.

And that’s probably the reason she’s afraid of coming close to Vanille.

_Probably._

.  
.


	4. teardrop

This sucks. This really, really, _really_ sucks.

Lightning sighs so heavily, she feels the oxygen leaving her _brain_. Like, she sighs so much that she feels dizzy, winded, like she’s about to pass out. What the hell. How is that even possible? Damn it. No. She’s not pissed off about that. Focus, _focus._ She’s pissed off about something else. Something very, very specific. It has something to do with the fact that her home is so quiet it echoes when she comes home. Something like, she thought things would be different now, but everything’s still the same. She’s pissed off that when she’s at work, all she ever thinks about is a _certain girl’s_ smile and all she wants is to come home to see it. But when she comes home, she _can’t._ Lightning can’t see it. She can’t, because the girl in question has this dumb schedule that just so happens to clash with hers and it’s technically her own fault because she’s the one to have introduced her to that job with that dumb schedule.

It sucks so fucking much.

And you know what sucks more? The fact that she can’t bring herself to actually _go_ see that smile. She can easily make that short walk to the bar, to make up an excuse—something like ‘ _oh, yeah, I got off work late. Just came by on the way,’_ or some other bullshit like that, but some alien force pulls her back. She wants to go. She wants to go, she _wants to go_. But, just. _God._ She can’t. The explanation sucks but she just can’t. It’s so dumb. It sucks.

So she just stays awake every night, rolling around in bed like some insomniac until she hears the beeping of the door lock. It usually sounds at around 2:30, which makes sense, because she gets off at two, and the walk home takes about twenty-minutes or so. _Oh,_ by the way, what sucks even more is that Lightning is on duty every day at eight, so she has to get up at seven to prepare. To be frank, because of this dumb schedule clash, she hasn’t gotten enough sleep for a long time now.

…

_Okay,_ fine. She’s being a drama queen. Kind of. It’s only been four days. Vanille’s only started working for four days. It’s so dumb how she’s already being so worked up about this. She was never a drama queen when she was a kid, so, what the hell. Where did this sudden bitchiness come from?

… Yet another dumb question. Lightning rolls her eyes. She turns to the digital clock on the cabinet and sees a gigantic glowing 2:47, and her heart clenches. Lightning gnaws at her bottom lip, and she does it quite hard too, because she doesn’t realize that it’s hurting until she tastes a little blood. _Ouch._

But enough about her. It’s appropriate to worry, right? Vanille gets off supposedly at two, and—fine, being the nice girl that she is, she would definitely offer to stay and clean up the mess with the others, but there is no way Lebreau would let her work overtime. Not because her friend hates paying her workers overtime, but because Lebreau _knows_ Lightning would be pissed as hell if she made Vanille work more in general. Plus, it’s only Vanille’s first week, so, yeah. It just doesn’t add up.

Lightning groans and sits up, throwing her covers off _so_ dramatically they fly in the air for a few seconds before landing back onto the bed. Her room faces the beach, which means it has quite a clear view of the seawall and the path that Vanille would supposedly take when she comes home. Lightning walks up to the floor-to-ceiling window and leans against it as she looks down.

Nothing. Of course there’s nothing. It’s almost three in the morning. The streetlights are on, but that only gives Lightning an eerie feeling. There’s something about empty streets that are lit. It’s probably just her, but. Whatever. Point is, Vanille’s not home yet, and she’s still being indecisive about something that she should have done fifty minutes ago. Or four days ago and fifty minutes ago.

Lightning grabs the jacket on her chair and zips it to the collar as she bursts out of her room.

She should’ve walked Vanille home since day one. _Sigh._ Some ‘girlfriend’ she is. Even if they aren’t official or anything. But it’s because they aren’t official that Lightning should go pick her up. To, like, show Vanille that she’s trying. But, no. Lightning’s too chicken shit.

That’s why she’s regretting it now. No, she’s not just regretting. Lightning nearly trips when she slips her runners on. She chooses runners because she knows she’s going to sprint like crazy. Probably make record time—maybe five minutes—getting to the NORA bar. She heads for the elevator, impatiently mashing the ‘down’ button, as if it would come faster.

The moment the elevator door opens when it reaches the lobby, the moment it makes that quiet _ding_ noise, Lightning sprints. She nearly tackles the lobby door open, and notes that if she’s broke it, she would have to deal with it later, because right now, she has to find Vanille. Lightning does know that she’s in her pyjamas and these shorts are really not becoming in this temperature but she really doesn’t give two shits. She runs and runs; her surroundings whirring in her peripherals and she feels the wind knocking against her head. Her ears are frozen and it feels like her eardrums are as well. God, her nose is getting runny as well. She hates it when her nose gets runny.

But there’s something she hates way more.

It’s the fact that she didn’t come out earlier. The fact that she’s not being honest. The fact that she’s not making it official. The fact that she is falling so fucking hard for Vanille but she’s still being a pussy about it. Her eyes are starting to feel hot and there’s this ache in her chest. Like… like she’s angry. Not at anyone, but at herself.

So when she finally sees Vanille, she runs even faster.

Vanille isn’t moving anymore, of course. What kind of person would continue walking towards some crazy person who is sprinting with all her might towards you? No one, really. “Lightning… what are you doing out here—at this time? It’s—”

“Three in the morning. I know.” Lightning says, and she realizes that she is panting. She doesn’t _pant_. She can run for miles (if she keeps her pace) but she just doesn’t pant. She knows now that she must be pretty worked up. Not that she’s going to admit it out loud. As if what she’s doing now isn’t embarrassing enough. She catches her breath pretty quickly, though. “I just.” She shrugs. “Wanted to buy something.” _Ugh. Damn it._ Come on, man. What the hell was that?

Even so, a small smile cracks on Vanille’s lips. She clasps her hands together behind herself and looks up at the pinkette, tilting her head slightly so that their faces would be _that_ much closer. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Lightning wants to punch herself.

Vanille chuckles. She takes Lightning’s hand, delicately, into her own and Lightning doesn’t know why she can’t just stop being such an idiot and tell her _everything_. “May I come with you?”

“I… don’t need to buy it anymore.” She didn’t even bring her wallet. So this lie was a mess-up from the start. Wow. Her idiocy level just rose to one thousand, didn’t it?

“Okay, then. Let’s go home?” Vanille suggests.

How Vanille can tolerate her stupidity is beyond her. Lightning thinks that if she were Vanille, she’d had run away from the start. Because, seriously, other than her looks, Lightning really doesn’t have anything to offer. Maybe her body, but they’re not even _there_ yet, so. Yeah. Doesn’t make sense. “Okay.”

“How was work?” Vanille asks, and Lightning feels as though a harpoon has struck her in the heart because she wanted to use that as a conversation starter. That would’ve been a nice attempt. But, nope. She’s too late. Because she lags like some ancient, first-generation machine.

“It was alright.”

“Mmm…” Vanille nods.

Note, they are still holding hands. Lightning thinks that it is because of this, small, physical contact that is preventing her from thinking straight. _No, it isn’t—_ her mind tells her. Screw her mind, seriously. It has to constantly remind her of how much of a dumbass she is and, quite frankly, she’s kind of fed up. So, _she decides_ , she will show that mind of hers. Right freaking now. “And you?”

Vanille’s face lights up. “It was great! Everyone is so nice. Lebreau only let me serve one section—as in, she didn’t let me go out to the patio because she said I’d catch a cold. Which made me feel really bad, y’know? Because she ended up making Yuj work outside. I should make it up to him…” she pauses. “Anyway, Maqui is such a sweet boy! Even though he’s a bartender—well, in-training, I guess—but he’d still come out to help me. I tell him that Lebreau would be angry at him for leaving his station, but he would just wave it off, and, guess what? Lebreau really _did_ get angry at him!”

Lightning finds herself smiling to everything that she’s saying. It’s not like she’s interested, she realizes. She just likes listening to her voice.

“I try to explaining to Lebreau, but Maqui just tells me that she’s just teasing—like she doesn’t actually get angry at anyone but Gadot. Oh! Speaking of Gadot,” Vanille giggles, “he’s quite silly for someone who looks so intimidating. Just yesterday, he tried to deal with this drunkard who wouldn't stop bothering me by kicking him out of the bar, but he ended up tripping and falling on top of the guy!”

At that, Lightning looks at her, eyebrows raised with concern. “Some guy wouldn’t stop bothering you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Vanille waves her free hand. “He was just a little drunk, and I think a little sad. Probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

Lightning is still unconvinced, but decides she can deal with the situation herself by doing something very simple.

“So then, I was thinking,” Vanille grins.

Lightning just stares, blinking very curiously.

“Lebreau is giving me day-offs on Saturdays. And since you don’t have work on Saturday, maybe we can finally hang out?”

Her heart soars a little. As in, that ache in her chest she’s mentioned earlier is no longer there. “Sure.”

“Great!” Vanille cheers.

“I’ll…” Lightning swallows, “pick you up tomorrow. After work.”

She really thought Vanille’s signature smiles can’t get any brighter and cheerier and more beautiful, but then, here she is, getting proven wrong by the girl in question. “Y-you will?” it seems like Vanille is so happy that she is stuttering. Or that she’s grinning so hard that she can’t control her vocal chords properly. Either way, it’s cute. “I… it’s going to be really late though!”

Lightning’s jaw flexes a little. “It’s really late now, isn’t it?”

Vanille laughs. “Well, you were the one who said that you ‘wanted to buy something’.”

She frowns. Yeah. That was a dumbass excuse. So, she counters quickly, casually. “Maybe I’ll need to ‘buy something’ again tomorrow.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is…” Vanille comes closer. She his looping their arms together and Lightning finds the closeness to be comfortable. At the very least, it’s warm. “Buying something is the excuse, picking me up from work is what you really want to do…”

“Well, yeah,” Lightning rolls her eyes. “I thought you already knew.”

“Yes!” Vanille releases her and runs ahead, jumping with joy. “You said it! I made you say it! Yes!”

Lightning frowns again. But it’s an amused sort of frown, so kind of a half-frown. And she’s pretty sure that she’s blushing. But it’s dark, so. Nobody would know. “You…” but, shit. She’s stuttering. _Quick, say something else! Change the subject!_ “You keep walking like that, you’re going to fall.”

Vanille grins cheekily and keeps on walking backwards, exactly the way she did a few days ago. “Even if I do, _oof—_ ”

She _does_ fall and Lightning reacts in a flash. She nearly pounces, leaping forward to grab onto Vanille’s hand and then pulling her up. Pulling her steady. Pulling her, um, close.

Oh, yeah. They are very close.

Close as in, Lightning’s hand is at the small of her back, their hips are touching, and their faces are so close together they can feel each other breathing. Lightning considers letting go, but her left hand just won’t budge. Like it’s not listening to her. It’s just lingering there, on Vanille’s back. And her eyes. Her eyes are wandering—from Vanille’s round eyes to her lips, and then back up to her eyes, then down to the lips again. Like they can’t decide where they want to _look._ It’s really confusing, because Lightning doesn’t feel like this often. A mixture of confusion and curiosity and… maybe a _tiny_ bit of arousal? The last time she felt this way was when she was still in grade school. A first crush. Something like that. Okay, she highly doubts she knew what ‘arousal’ is back in the day, but. Point is, that was more than a decade ago. _Ish._ She’s fucking twenty years old now— _nearly twenty-one—_ an adult. She isn’t of the age to _crush_ on people anymore.

Yet, here she is. _Crushing_ on someone. On Vanille.

And it doesn’t help at all—it doesn’t calm her nerves at all—when Vanille’s hands move to grasp at the back of her jacket gently. Lightning swallows and just watches as the shorter girl smile. Waiting.

“Even if I do, you’d catch me.” She whispers.

Somehow, it seems like the ocean waves are, what’s the word? Accommodating? Helping? Enhancing? Whatever. The sound of the gentle waves in the background harmonize with her voice, and Lightning has never heard anything more beautiful. Under the night light, standing together along the road, everything is quiet and peaceful. No one to bother them, no distractions.

“How do you know that for sure?” Lightning asks.

Vanille breathes out gently. “I trust you.”

She exhales. “Why?”

“Because you’re kind,” Vanille moves a hand up to cup Lightning’s cheek. Her thumb traces small circles on the taller woman’s skin. “Kinder than anyone I know.”

Lightning creases her thin eyebrows together, looking slightly irritated. It’s now or never. And she knows that. Lightning _has_ to tell Vanille. “I… I’m not. I’m really…” she clenches her teeth. “Vanille, I’m not the kind of person you think I am. I’m not a—I’m not kind. And I am definitely not the type of person you want to be around with. I don’t even want to be around myself. No one does. So, just. Please stop saying that I’m kind. I’ve scared away my—I… I really am not.” She commands herself to let go of Vanille. And after some struggle with her fucked up mind, she finally does. And Lightning backs away.

Vanille looks upset. Well, no shit she does. Lightning lowers her head. She doesn’t want to see Vanille disappointed.

She doesn’t want to see her disappointed, but she needs to go on explaining the reason for this angst. _God_ she hates angst. Why does she have to be so difficult? “Vanille, when I first saw you, when I first…” she pauses, sighs, and decides to approach this differently. “I only came down to look for you again because I wanted to sleep with you.”

There is this indescribable, utterly dejected, _dismal_ reaction that befalls Vanille’s beautiful face. Not only that, but the two steps she takes back, away from Lightning, shows that she is frightened. Frightened of her. Like Lightning’s some creepy asshole. Which. She is.

Vanille brings a hand up to her chest. She covers her pounding heart and it looks like she’s struggling to draw an even breath.

Lightning, although concerned, couldn’t bring herself to move forward. She has no right.

“Do—” Vanille starts weakly, “do you still… still think that way?”

That’s a question Lightning isn’t prepared to answer. Being honest is hard. But she knows that she can’t bail. Not when she’s at this point. “Yes, I do. I still want to sleep with you. More than that, but…” she voices, but before Vanille could give her another disappointed reaction, Lightning presses on, “but it’s not only that.”

Her expression unchanging, Vanille stays quiet, letting Lightning continue.

But Lightning’s about to lose her shit. She was never a patient person to begin with, so this bullshit explanation she’s going through is kind of a complete waste of time. Fucking. Get to the point. _Please_. “Look, I’m not the ideal girlfriend you may be looking for. I’m nothing close to romantic, nor am I what you describe to be as ‘adorable’. In fact, I think I’m the complete opposite of that. I’m boring; I have this bad habit of going to nightclubs where I’d pick people up, sleep with them, scare them off, and I’d do it all again the next week.”

Strangely, Vanille looks calm. And her expression is softening up. Like she’s willing to listen.

So Lightning goes on. “I-I’m not a good person, Vanille. That’s why I can’t kiss you. You’re…” she struggles to find the right words. And it’s frustrating. Vanille is so pure, so innocent, and yet she can’t describe her. “… you can do better. You deserve better.”

“I don’t.”

Lightning is stunned a little by the abruptness of her response. She gets even more confused when Vanille raises her head to smile sadly at her.

“Lightning, I…” she crosses her arms together and rubs at her biceps, the sleeve of her jacket creases and folds with each movement. “I think you’re better than you think you are.”

She wants to argue. Lightning wants to tell her _no_ , she’s wrong. She is a human of the worst calibre. No one can compare. And while she can, she should run away. Away from her.

“I told you already. The fact that you’re trying so hard—the fact that you have the courage to tell me—I think that makes you a very good person.” Vanille takes a step closer, but the sad smile lingers. “And I know that what you want isn’t just to sleep with me.”

Lightning clenches her fists. She doesn’t understand—“Why,” she steps back, “why would you put so much trust on someone like me?”

Vanille doesn’t hesitate; she takes another step closer. “Because you came down to find me.”

Lightning pauses. She just stares at Vanille, unmoving.

And Vanille sees this as a chance to come even closer. “Because for the last four days, I knew you stayed up to wait for me.”

She blinks. “How did you—”

“Your panda eyes. They look more than a day old.” Vanille explains. “And you kind of confirmed it with your reaction just now.” She giggles.

Lightning looks away, not even bothering to hold back the urge to pout. The things she does when she’s worked up. So embarrassing. So _idiotic._

Vanille sees and she smiles tenderly. She comes even closer, this time taking Lightning’s hand into her own, gripping only at the soldier’s fingertips. “I trust you, because despite your reasons for approaching me in the first place, you’re restraining yourself.”

“I…”

“So,” Vanille closes the gap between them. “Are you ready yet?”

Lightning is stunned. Vanille’s reasoning, perception, her _god damn_ analysis of her character makes Lightning realize that perhaps Vanille is right—that she is, in fact, better than she thinks she is. And although the argument is entirely convincing, Lightning still feels somewhat uneasy. It’s just. Even though Vanille trusts her, she can’t really trust herself. Thing is, it’s insecurity more than anything that overwhelms her, and until she can get rid of this prickling feeling—“Vanille,” Lightning starts.

“Hmm?” Vanille hums.

It still feels really strange when she smiles. As in naturally, genuinely. Lightning goes on, regardless. “When I kiss you, I want to do it without having to think so much.” She holds back onto Vanille’s hands, intertwining their fingers together at the cracks. “I want it to come naturally. I don’t want to have any sick thoughts when I do it. I… I want it to be fair. To you.”

The girl stays quiet and listens.

“That’s why I can’t do it now. But, um.” She swallows. “Would you, I don’t know. Wait for me?”

Her eyelids flutter and those thick lashes bat wonderfully. Then, Vanille nods.

And Lightning thinks she’s seeing heaven. She breaks into the widest grin ever—like, the type that only appears on children’s faces when they see ice cream or something for the first time. It’s juvenile and completely dorky, but for once, Lightning doesn’t seem to care.

Vanille giggles, and Lightning knows it’s because she looks ridiculous. “Lightning, you really are adorable. Please don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” without warning, she leans up, tiptoeing—her lips come in contact with Lightning’s cheek and then she draws back. “And I have the biggest crush on you.” Vanille says.

It’s hard to see without light, but she knows that Vanille is blushing. Probably as much as she is. Lightning doesn’t really know. She’s too shocked by that peck on the cheek. She’s still staring wide-eyed at the girl. “Uh, um. T-thank you,” she manages. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

Vanille giggles again. She moves beside Lightning and hooks their arms together. “So let’s go home, yes? It’s getting really cold.”

Lightning thinks fast. “Do you want my jacket?”

The girl looks over at her, observing her from head to toe. She breaks into another grin. “It looks like you’re only wearing your pyjamas underneath that little hoodie of yours though…”

_Shit._ Lightning looks away.

“Aw, it’s okay,” Vanille laughs. She leans over and her head is resting on Lightning’s shoulder. “Your attempt to be romantic makes you really romantic, so please don’t feel bad.”

She groans.

Vanille laughs harder. “There, there. Maybe you can _actually_ be romantic next time?”

Lightning is tempted to ask how, but. “How?” _Oh shit._ She spoke too soon. Like, literally.

“By… I don’t know,” Vanille taps her chin with a finger, deep in thought, “by doing something unpredictable?”

“Unpredict…” Lightning trails off.

“Come on, come on! Let’s go home!” the girl says, dragging her ahead so that their pace would quicken. “You’re going to catch a cold at this rate!”

She rolls her eyes. She never gets sick. People say only idiots don’t get sick, but. Okay, maybe that saying is applicable now because Lightning has finally come into terms that she is, in fact, an idiot. Not like that’s flattering in any way, but. Nonetheless, she’s glad. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

She’s glad that someone cares.

.  
.

What does she mean, exactly, by ‘unpredictable’?

Like, an ambush? Something abrupt? Something completely uncalled for? Or maybe she’s thinking too much. Maybe a simple surprise will suffice. Lightning is changing into her casualwear as her mind spins in motion. Maybe some flowers? That’s surprising enough, right?

She slips on a pair of black leggings.

No, no. Flowers are too predictable. She needs something less… _predictable._ Because Vanille’s already told her that she would want to receive flowers if someone were courting her, so if Lightning were to give her flowers, then she’d be way too predictable. Yeah, no. that’s not good.

She throws on a maroon V-neck t-shirt.

So, maybe if she were to show up this time empty-handed, that would be enough of a surprise? Because, like, Vanille’s expecting something, right? Well, maybe not. No, she’s definitely not. Vanille never deliberately said that she wanted something. She just gave Lightning the hint on how to be cute or romantic or whatever last night. Vanille’s not a superficial person at all.

Lightning looks at herself in the mirror. Well, she definitely isn’t dressing her best tonight. That’s probably a big enough of a surprise. Then again, Vanille’s never seen her dressed properly at all since their encounter. Like, seriously. Basketball shorts and a hoodie on the first day, sportswear on the second, and then skip a few days because of that dumb schedule conflict… and finally last night when she was wearing her pyjamas of all things. This right here—what she’s wearing now—is probably the best Vanille will ever see. That is, until Lightning’s fashion sense returns. That part of her brain is too fried up. Too much is being concentrated on how to make Vanille happy.

So Lightning just grabs a white leather jacket from her closet and slaps it on, then she slips into her brown knee-high boots before heading out the door.

She normally dresses quite nicely on a Friday. For, you know, _reasons._ To be fair though, what she’s wearing right now isn’t hideous, but she’s just so paranoid that it isn’t enough to satisfy Vanille. After all, depending on how one would interpret it, today is kind of, maybe, _probably_ their first date? Lightning is to pick Vanille up from work, and then she thinks the two of them can hang around Bodhum’s night market or something. To bond. Or something.

Whatever. It’ll work out.

Lightning takes a deep breath and heads into the elevator.

.  
.

When she arrives at the NORA Bar, she gets exactly the welcome she thinks she would get; Gadot greets her at the entrance with a hug (despite her protest), Yuj serving on the patio greets her politely because he’s a nice guy, Maqui inside the bar waves at her, and Lebreau just smirks as if she knows what’s going down tonight.

But Lebreau is completely wrong. Nothing’s going down tonight because she and Vanille haven’t even kissed yet. _Sorry to disappoint you, Lebreau_ , is what she wants to say.

“Lightning!” Vanille runs towards her. She is in a cute, pink tank top and Lightning cannot take her eyes off the black bra straps that are showing underneath. And those shorts— _damn it Lebreau—_ those freaking shorts are criminal. Why is she making Vanille wear this?! Like, even Lightning herself hasn’t seen that much skin on Vanille yet, but these random customers, these _nobodies_ have? What the hell?!

“Hey,” Lightning greets casually. Truth is, she’s concealing the storm that is looming in her chest.

“You’re here,” Vanille says softly, and nothing but affection shines in her emerald green eyes.

And in that moment, Lightning discovers that the storm inside her has calmed. Like, it just disappeared. It’s really odd, because the next moment, she is smiling. “Of course I am. I’m here to pick you up.”

The girl breaks into a chuckle. “But it’s still twelve. I have another two hours!”

“Oh, screw the rules!”

The two turn to the sound of the voice.

It’s Lebreau. She is leaning on the bar with her elbows. “I’m letting you off early today, Vanille. Get changed and go have a good time with your soldier girl!” she winks, and then gives Lightning another one of those _have-fun-tonight_ smirks.

It annoys her to no end, because Lightning _isn’t_ going to do what Lebreau thinks she’s going to do. God. But thinking deeply about it, Lightning knows that she can’t really blame her friend; her reputation’s just too shitty for redemption.

“But… that’s not fair to the rest of them…” Vanille continues to argue.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Gadot shouts from the entrance, his voice bellows through the loud music and TV noises and whatnot, making some of the customers at their tables jump. “We’ll take care of everything! You did such a good job this week, you deserve an early off!”

“Mm…” Vanille grumbles. She is pouting and Lightning finds her angry face to be cute.

Lightning smiles at the sight and decides to help the girl with the situation. “If it helps, I can just walk around for a bit and then pick you up when the time comes.”

Vanille gasps. “Oh, no, don’t do that! Y-you’re here already!”

“So go on then, Vanille!” Maqui adds as he walks by with a tray of beer pitchers in a hand, and some menus in another. “Tonight’s surprisingly not busy for a Friday night, I think that’s saying something!”

“Saying something…?”

“It means it’s meant to be that you leave early!” Lebreau says. “Come on, don’t want soldier girl to wait for you forever, do you?”

Throughout the entire thing, Lightning can see the struggle in Vanille expression. It ranges from firm to doubtful, and now, her resolve is finally cracked when Lebreau finishes. There’s no denying; when it comes to negotiating, Lebreau’s the best at it. Maybe Lightning should tip her later.

“Okay, okay, fine, you guys!” Vanille frowns, but she is also laughing. “I… I’ll just take out the trash, and then I’ll be off, okay?”

“Just leave the trash to Yuj!” Gadot shouts again from the entrance. Lightning thinks that at this rate, the NORA members are just going to scare their customers away. It’s not her fault, though.

(It kind of is, really.)

“No, I insist,” Vanille says as she walks to the back of the bar counter. “It’ll be less work for you guys afterwards, right?” she smiles.

Lebreau rolls her eyes. “There’s no reasoning with you, girl. Do as you like.”

Before Vanille disappears into the backroom, she calls out to Lightning. “It’ll just take me a bit. I’m going to come back out after I dump this and change, okay?”

Lightning simply nods.

She heads towards where Lebreau is and takes a seat on one of the barstools.

“I can see why you like her so much,” her friend teases.

“Just get me a drink.” Lightning scowls.

“What, are you thinking of getting drunk now so that Vanille can take you home? Come on, Light. That’s low, even for you. You should spend some time with her, _sober._ ”

The soldier’s stare becomes lazy. It’s like she’s stopped trying. “Nobody said anything about getting drunk. I haven’t had anything to drink since I got off work. Just get me a punch or something,” she defends. “And what do you mean _even for me_?”

Lebreau laughs. She grabs a glass from under the counter and pours her friend a drink that looks just as pink as her hair. “Oh, you know what I mean, don’t play innocent.”

Lightning ignores her and takes the drink. _Oh,_ grapefruit juice. Not bad. She downs the entire thing in several gulps.

“Vanille’s a nice girl.”

_Yeah,_ Lightning wants to say, _she knows._

“I think she’s good for you.”

Lightning would’ve blushed to those words, but she drew her attention elsewhere. The floor. Yes, the floor is interesting.

Lebreau laughs. “I mean, sure, you’re just twenty and you’re at your prime and everything, but you should really stop it with those bad habits of yours if you really care about her.”

She looks at her friend again. Having no retort whatsoever, Lightning just glares.

“But, uh, hey,” Lebreau’s tone shifts into something that is less teasing. Like she’s actually trying to be serious. “I don’t know if you know, but—ah. Actually, of course you would. I mean, you two live together and are a thing, right?”

Lightning would deny that, but she’s too distracted by the sudden seriousness.

“I think… something’s wrong with Vanille.” She says, her voice low.

“What do mean?” Lightning responds immediately.

Lebreau’s fingers tap on the counter. She’s being antsy. The barmaid is _never_ antsy.

“Lebreau.” Lightning pushes.

The barmaid sighs before starting again, “I don’t mean she’s unwell or anything like that—no, she’s the happiest girl I’ve ever met. It’s just…” she clucks her tongue. “The other day, when she was changing in the backroom, the door was slightly opened and I saw something.” She pauses to swallow. Or to build suspense. Or something.

If she pauses any longer, Lightning thinks she just might strangle her friend. “What.” She grunts.

Lebreau flexes her jaw. She takes a deep breath, “I think Vanille’s been—”

She is interrupted when a piercing scream is heard from the backroom.

Recognizing the voice, Lightning moves in a flash—almost as if her body is acting before her mind—and she throws herself in the room. She glances around; there is nothing but cardboard boxes stacked to the ceiling on one side and a couch and coffee table on another. Lightning looks deeper into the room and sees another door, opened. There is no hesitation. Lightning lunges to the door and when she is outside, she finds herself in an alley, and—

“Stop—please _stop…!”_

Some guy. Pinning Vanille against the wall as he—

Her eyes flash—a blinding white light—and she sprints forward, kicking the man in the head with all her power, knocking him back several feet and he crashes against the wall. If he doesn’t get a concussion from that, he’d probably gotten whiplash from the force of the blow. But that doesn’t concern Lightning. If she had her gunblade with her, she’d whip it out without second thought and would have blown his head off. Or slice his head off. So, thank _fuck_ she doesn’t have her weapon with her. Or _he_ should thank fuck.

But no, not yet. He’s still moving and he’s actually attempting to stand. Lightning’s entire body shakes with indignation and she stomps towards the man. When he looks up at her, ready to ask her what her problem is or whatever, Lightning kicks him square in the face.

She hears a crack and figures that she’s probably broken his nose. Or probably his neck. She’s pretty sure she broke _something._

And when the man is knocked unconscious, his body falls onto the ground.

Lightning clenches her fists and her legs are tense. She is about a hair-width away from breaking; she is _this_ close to losing it, and she is about to throw away her conduct and decree and whatever and she is about to stomp the _shit_ out of this guy’s body until he legitimately becomes a corpse, because, _god help her_ , she is _livid._ How _dare_ he touch Vanille? How _dare_ he—

“Light!” A hand is on her shoulder and she would have spun around to punch the person, but then she sees that it’s Gadot. She sees him tense a little—probably because she looks like she’s about to _murder_ someone—before speaking up again, “I got this. Go take care of Vanille.” He gestures behind him.

_Vanille._

Lightning’s eyes widen.

She hears a whimper, and, actually listening to somebody else but herself for once, she rushes to Vanille. Lebreau is already beside her and at the corner of her eyes, she sees Yuj and Maqui rushing back into the bar. Probably calling the cops or something.

“D-don’t, please don’t—” Vanille is trembling. Not just her voice, but her entire body is shaking.

Lebreau moves aside when Lightning approaches. She kneels in front of Vanille and tries to pry her delicate arms away from her face. “Vanille,” she starts softly, “It’s okay. It’s me.”

Vanille doesn’t budge. Those arms are firm and unmoving and Lightning doesn’t want to force her. The girl’s clothes are torn and she is very much exposed. Lightning sees this and takes off her leather jacket. She is about to drape it over her shoulders, but then she sees Vanille’s back.

Lightning forgets how to breathe.

_I think… something is wrong with Vanille._

She looks to Lebreau, the sudden movement making her pink hair sway.

The barmaid just returns the look sadly, and then she turns away.

Scars. Thick, deep purple scars that run across her back. They’re not any ordinary scar—no. It’s not like a childhood tumble or anything simple like that. Lightning’s seen many scars in her life; she’s gotten some scrapes and such on her knees and elbows. She’s had friends in the Corps who have sustained some injuries as well, but what Vanille has on her back is nothing like that.

Those scars can only come from beatings. Constant flogging, lashing _._ Lightning knows for a fact that such wounds can only be done by whips.

A million thoughts race through her mind all at once. Who did this to her? Why did they do it? _How_ could they do it? Her heart is pounding, literally knocking against her ribcage and it’s hurting so much. More so than when she runs, when she works out. Much more than anything ever. She doesn’t remember feeling such pain since… _since…_

Lightning grits her teeth. She drapes her jacket over Vanille’s scarred back and pulls the girl into her arms. This is the only thing she can do, because, truth is, she doesn’t know _what_ to do. Lightning is scared and confused and frustrated and angry but she doesn’t think twice when she starts whispering, “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” again and again. But Lightning herself doesn’t even understand the meaning behind those words. In fact, she hears herself tremble.

And she _doesn’t_ tremble.

“No, please… I-I…” Vanille resists, drawing back from her touch. Her voice is weak but she continues to plead, “Please don’t touch me…! I don’t want this anymore. I don’t want this again. I don’t want this _I don’t want this—”_

Lightning bites back a sob. She pulls Vanille closer in and wishes she can shield the girl from her thoughts with her body.

But she can’t.

Lightning feels pathetic because there is nothing she can do. So, she just lies. Both to Vanille and to herself.

“It’s okay, Vanille. Everything’s okay.” But, in a sense, there is some truth in her words, “I’ve got you.”

.  
.


	5. aquiver

Lightning can’t recall the last time she held onto someone so, _so_ firmly. So _securely_ , perhaps, is the better term.

“Hey,” Lebreau calls from the front seat. “Call us if you need anything, yeah?”

Lightning just nods.

The car comes to a stop and Gadot turns around from the driver’s seat. “You okay?”

She nods again and then nudges her shoulder. Vanille is awake—she knows that much, but the girl isn’t stirring. It’s almost like she’s too tired. But Lightning knows that it’s because she’s still in shock.

“Vanille,” she calls. Lightning nudges the girl a little to get her attention.

Vanille breathes in sharply, as if the small gesture knocked the wind out of her. She manages a smile. “Yes?”

“We’re here.”

It’s almost like it took her a few seconds to comprehend the two, simple words. Vanille tenses a little and nods. She smiles—or at least, _tries_ to—and speaks up, “Thank you.”

The gratitude was directed to Gadot and Lebreau, who then proceed to turn and eye each other for a bit. And it is the former who speaks up first, “Hey, um, Vanille, don’t stress yourself out, alright? Get some rest, and only come back when Lightning says so, okay?”

Vanille maintains that smile. “Thank you. I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry so much.” She says politely.

She leaves the car first. It’s almost like she couldn’t wait to get out. Lightning thinks it’s because she can’t put up with acting like nothing’s wrong, and at the same time, she doesn’t want the two to worry. Of course, Lebreau isn’t stupid. And Gadot, as much of a meathead as he appears to be, _isn’t_ dumb either.

“Watch her, Light. She…” Lebreau clears her throat and lowers her voice, “… she didn’t mention the scars to the cops for a reason. She didn’t mention them to… to _you_ for a reason.”

Lightning sighs. She watches as Vanille just treads her way towards the lobby of her apartment. Truth is, she has no idea what to do. She’s never dealt with such delicate situations. She doesn’t know how to handle herself for shit like this. She’s just…

She balls her fists to the thought.

Then she realizes that all she ever cares about is herself. Even right now—she’s only thinking for herself.

Damn selfish is what she is.

“Hey, Light,” Gadot says, breaking her train of thoughts. He gives her a cheeky grin. “You got this.”

Lightning sits there for a moment and tries to convince herself so. She breathes out, smiling to herself—whether in humiliation or amusement, she doesn’t know. She likes to think it’s the latter though. “Yeah,” she says, not so reassuringly, and steps out of the car.

Lebreau gives her a final “take care” and Lightning hears them drive off. The next few seconds seem to pass by in slow motion. Lightning trails after Vanille—the two enter the lobby, and she is five steps behind the girl. The usual, old security guard greets her and she nods without taking her eyes off Vanille.

And it breaks Lightning’s heart—it breaks the _security guard’s_ heart—that Vanille doesn’t answer with the bubbly enthusiasm that she usually does.

It’s all just so frustrating.

They enter the elevator. Vanille stands in one corner, and no matter how much Lightning wants to walk over and tell her that _she’s here for her,_ or that _if she wants, she can talk_ , or… anything relating on that matter, Lightning just can’t seem to find the figurative balls to speak up. The short, thirty-second elevator ride is hence seemingly multiplied to a longer, thirty- _minute_ ride.

“Lightning.”

The suddenness to Vanille’s voice would’ve made Lightning snap her head up so hard a bone would crack or something, but she manages to be graceful and answers calmly.

“Yeah?”

Vanille squeezes her wrist. “I…”

Lightning stays still and just watches. She watches Vanille’s small frame appear impossibly _smaller_ when she scrunches her shoulders up to her ears. She watches Vanille squeeze her wrist so tightly her hand shakes. She watches. _She watches._

Then Vanille looks up—her bangs flicking with her sudden movement, and her jaw just hangs loose.

_Ding_

And Lightning sees the dejected look overwhelm that expression.

“It’s… nothing.” Vanille says, and she just exits the elevator, head down.

_No, it’s definitely something, Vanille,_ Lightning wants to say. But of course she doesn’t say it. She never says what she thinks. It’s just a condition that she has. It’s also a trait that drives everyone away. Vanille being one of them, for example. So she just swallows. Lightning simply walks behind the shorter girl. Her gaze unconsciously bores into the back of Vanille’s head and she knows for a fact that somewhere at the back of her mind, she is screaming at her to turn around. Lightning is trying to communicate with Vanille telepathically because _god knows_ she can’t do it in person. Because she’s just. _Fuck._

_God._ Say something, you idiot _. Say something._

Lightning continues to stare intently at the back of Vanille’s head. Like something’s going to change. Like she’s going to fucking notice. They walk along the empty corridor, and Lightning feels that if she doesn’t accomplish _something_ by the time they reach her flat, she would fail. She doesn’t know what she would fail _at_ , but she just knows that she will.

_Say something._ Do _something._

They are at her door. Vanille is about to scan her finger and Lightning’s still standing there— _behind her—_ deciding on what to do. Lightning looks at Vanille’s back. She can still picture it—those deep, crimson, _veiny_ scars that should, in no way, be on a girl as pure and innocent and delicate as Vanille. They should not be on _anyone._ Why the fuck—

_Beep_

God damn. Vanille’s gone inside. _Surprise, surprise._ Lightning’s failed. Like she didn’t see that one coming. She sighs and steps inside. There’s nothing she can do now. Maybe get some sleep, and tomorrow’s going to be a better day— _is what she wants to tell herself._ But then this sudden _urge—_ this insatiable need to resolve this matter envelops her, and Lightning finds herself holding Vanille’s hand.

Vanille turns around, round eyes questioning in silence.

And Lightning just stares back. Swallowing stupidly. “Tell me,”

The girl blinks.

_Try harder, damn it._ “I’ll listen,” she says (mutters), “I won’t go away. So tell me when you’re ready.”

Then Vanille’s entire body just loosens up. Like, if you’ve ever told someone that they’re no longer on death sentence. That type of loosening up. It positively reassuring to witness, and Lightning feels as though a few thousand tonnes have been lifted off her chest. It’s like she’s finally done something right. Or simply, she’s finally done _something._

The corners of Vanille’s lips arch a little, and she looks to her feet. “Lightning…” she begins in the tiniest, most delicate voice ever, “You… you’re too kind to me.”

Lightning doesn’t let go of Vanille’s hand. She takes a step closer.

And this closeness triggers something within Vanille. It triggers something within Lightning as well, because—

“Is… is it okay if you give me a hug?”

Vanille did not have to finish her request. Lightning has already pulled her small frame into her arms and the two are just caught in each other’s arms, standing at the front door.

Vanille buries her face into the crook of Lightning’s neck, making it easy for the latter to feel the warm droplets of tears running along her skin. Vanille is gripping onto the back of her shirt so tightly it’s almost like the girl’s afraid that she would let go. Not that Lightning had any intention in doing so. She kind of likes this feeling. The feeling of being needed. It’s been quite a while since she’s felt this way. And she remembers exactly why she doesn’t feel like this often—it’s because she doesn’t know how to handle situations like these. Hence, nobody ever goes to her _when_ they have said situations. So Lightning just awkwardly strokes Vanille’s head, letting the poor girl sob in silence.

To her credit, Lightning thinks that if she says anything, it would ruin the moment. That’s why it’s probably best to just stay quiet.

Still, a part of her thinks that she should probably speak up. Because, like, come on. They can’t stand here forever. So Lightning gets her shit together and speaks up. “Hey,” she manages to say it gently. Like, Lightning didn’t even know she could speak so gently.

Vanille looks up—her eyes red and puffy and Lightning really shouldn't make inappropriate remarks at a time like this, but she’s got to admit: Vanille looks _bloody_ adorable.

Lightning wets her lips and looks to the living room. “Want to sit down first? You must be tired.”

She looks at Lightning like she has a thousand words to say. She looks at Lightning like she wants to tell her everything. But Vanille simply nods and removes her shoes. Lightning follows promptly, because she realizes that Vanille isn’t letting go of her. They make their way into the living room. Neither one of them has had the opportunity to turn on the lights, so the room is illuminated in an eerie, bluish moonlight. Add on the fact that Lightning has white couches, the eeriness is just multiplied by tenfold.

_Good job, the interior designer in Lightning._

Anyway, the two are just standing. Almost like they’re not really prepared to sit. Almost like if they sit, the atmosphere would change—for better or worse, neither one knows.

But Vanille makes a move. As in, she speaks first. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.”

And those were the last words Lightning expected from her. After all that’s happened, she’s worried about causing trouble for Lightning? Then again, she’s probably just trying to bring up conversation. _Or,_ because Vanille’s the kindest, gentlest, _sweetest_ human being’s she’s ever met, she’s genuinely apologetic over the matter.

So she needs to adapt. _Yes._ Stop being an idiot and don't give her any stupid response, _damn it._

“Hey,” Lightning begins, not really knowing what she’s doing. “At least I got to beat the crap out of that guy, right?”

_Silence._

Oh, great. _Real_ smooth, Lightning Farron. Go ahead, make a joke out of this. _God._ She is so stupid. So much for not giving a stupid response. So much for not being an idi—

Vanille giggles.

Lightning blinks, strangely feeling less stupid even though she’s technically getting laughed at right now.

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” Vanille says.

“Is, um. Is that a good thing?”

“Well, this person was as stubborn as she was rash.”

Her shoulders droop. “So, it’s not a good thing.”

“Oh no, no!” she holds onto Lightning’s elbows with concern, kind of like she’s scared she’s pissed her off. “It’s a good thing! Because she always stood up for me when I got bullied. I got picked on a lot when I was younger, you see.”

Lightning blinks, waiting for her to go on.

Vanille shifts her eyes down to their feet and she smiles to herself. “No one ever did for me what she has done.” Then, she looks up, straight into Lightning’s eyes again. “Except you.”

Well, the blush is inevitable. Lightning’s just glad that every time it happens she is covered by the dark. “It’s… nothing much. I really only beat up an asshole.”

“I think you’ve done way more,” Vanille argues with that _freaking_ smile. “For example, you’ve… hm, let’s see. You’ve restored my faith in humanity, at the very least.”

Lightning is very sure that she’s exaggerating at this point. And in the midst of her trying to calm her spinning head and thinking of how to respond, Vanille takes a step closer. Lightning reflexively sits on the couch behind, pulling Vanille down with her. Vanille takes Lightning’s hands into her own, and normally, this would be really awkward if it weren’t so dark. Because, you know, the blushing and all. But since it’s dark, _screw it._ Lightning swallows the lump down her throat and actually reciprocates. As in, she holds onto Vanille’s hands as well, waiting for the shorter girl to do whatever she needed.

“Up until that night at the beach, I thought the entire world was against me,” Vanille scoots closer. “And then I saw you. Or, technically, _you_ saw me.”

Lightning lets Vanille rest on her shoulder again.

She continues in a whisper. “When you stopped me—the concern in your voice and eyes and everything, I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I felt very privileged. Almost as if I was saved by an angel.”

Lightning would have laughed. “I’m not an angel,” she simply says. “I’m nothing like one.”

“Mm…” Vanille chuckles. “If you say so.”

Sighing, Lightning leans her head back. Vanille shifts a little so that she’s resting in Lightning’s neck again. Beside them, the rising sun peaks out of the horizon, replacing the bluish hue with a brilliant golden light. Lightning thinks by now Vanille’s fallen asleep, but when she turns to look, she sees the girl staring back. The sunlight reflects off Vanille’s green eyes, and Lightning can see how much they resemble crystals. The purest, _deepest_ emeralds she can ever fathom to see. It is honestly scary and almost unrealistic how beautiful they are. Seriously. How can a human being possess eyes like these? It’s… it’s just…

“Vanille.”

The girl in question doesn’t break her gaze.

And Lightning is _done_ telling herself that she can’t kiss her.

So she does. It happens far too quickly and perhaps a _tad_ too roughly. But she’s already holding back—kind of. It’s just natural reflexes, she figures. When their lips meet, it isn’t soft and sweet and innocent as Lightning initially anticipated. It’s not exactly messy or desperate or anything like that either. It’s adequately controlled and all together out of practice. Yes, that’s probably the best way to describe it. Lightning admits that she hasn’t kissed many people in her life—mostly because she doesn’t normally make out with her one-night-stands. She usually just gets right down to it.

And _right down to it_ is what she will do. In the midst of her anticipation and raging hormones alike, Lightning doesn’t even notice that she’s pushed Vanille onto the sofa, with herself lying on top. She hasn’t noticed that she’s long abandoned those luscious lips and is kissing and nibbling at the smaller girl’s neck. All she knows is that Vanille is making these cute, small gasps that just makes her centre _throb._

“L-Lightning…”

She draws back in an instant. Lightning would be lying if she said that she didn’t know what she was doing to Vanille. And it’s honestly so selfish of her to just _go on_ despite knowing and witnessing what’s happened to the girl earlier.

“Sorry. Too fast, right?” she stupidly asks.

“No, I…” Vanille swallows. A long pause, “I’m just…”

Lightning sees her struggle immediately. “I’m sorry—”

Vanille wraps her delicate arms around Lightning’s neck before she can pull back any farther though. They’re locked in this awkward position, where Lightning is still on top of Vanille, and the latter moves her hands to frame the soldier’s face. “Wait, please…” She takes a moment to look into Lightning’s eyes, and she does it as if she’s searching for something—something within the different shades of blue in her irises. “Maybe we can… um, t-try again?”

Lightning stiffens.

And Vanille seems to noticed, because she’s easing her, running circles on Lightning’s cheeks with her thumbs. She leans up to brush her lips against Lightning’s, never breaking eye contact as she suckles onto the soldier’s lower lip so, _so_ softly. Her fingers trail behind Lightning’s head as she tugs those pink strands gently—as if to encourage the woman.

And encouraged she is, as Lightning gives in to crush their lips together. This time, a moan sounds at the back of Vanille’s throat and Lightning just reflexively slips her knee between the girl’s legs, pressing into her centre with a meticulous pressure.

Vanille pulls away from the kiss to breathe, gasp, and _wheeze._ Lightning thinks the girl’s just getting worked up, because that’s what they all do, right? So she goes on, ever so invigorated by those sensual sounds Vanille is making. Lightning slips her hands up the girl’s shirt—she feels Vanille’s protruding ribcage as she runs her fingers up to her breasts, and she tries her utter best to ignore just how scarily-skinny the girl would look topless. She tries to focus on the pleasure she receives when she squeezes Vanille’s breasts—as she usually does when she touches other people. Lightning tries to ignore the rough ridges and bumps on Vanille’s skin as she runs her fingers across her back. She tries and tries and _tries_ not to picture the scars that she’s seen earlier.

She succeeds in all of the above, but she just can’t seem to ignore the fact that Vanille is _sobbing._

So Lightning pulls back just about enough to see Vanille’s eyes, shut in distress. Even someone as thick as Lightning knows. “Hey,” she calls.

When Vanille opens her eyes, there are tears.

That’s when Lightning feels guilty as fuck. She _should_ feel guilty as fuck.  Because she should have known—something horrible must have happened to Vanille before, something that relates to _this—_ she runs her fingers across the girl’s back. Yet her selfish mind chooses to neglect that, simply because she wants to fuck. Seriously. Just because she _wants to fuck._ She’s the fucking worst.

“W-what is it?” Vanille squeaks.

She doesn’t know how to word this any other way, so she just goes with whatever comes out. “When you’re ready, okay?”

Vanille looks at her. Like she’s in disbelief. Lightning can see the relief in her eyes and it’s contagious. A small smile cracks on Vanille’s lips and she nods slowly. “You really are too kind to me.” Vanille brushes at the pink strands, pushing them behind Lightning’s ear.

_No, I really am not._ It’s ridiculous. Lightning wants to tell her that she’s being ridiculous. She is _nothing_ close to being nice. So much for being fair to Vanille. So much for kissing her without having dirty thoughts. She’s just full of shit. “No,” Lightning tries to smile, “I’m… I really am not.”

Vanille returns the smile with one of her own, though Lightning finds it to be ten times more brilliant because it is _her_. “I think we’ll continue to argue about this for a long time.”

Lightning sits up whilst maintaining that smile, glad that the girl isn’t offended by her actions. It’s good that their relationship isn’t strained or anything. _Wait._ Come to think of it, relationship? What relationship? Sure, they’re attracted to each other, and they sure as hell like each other, but they’re not official. At least not yet. Maybe it’s time to fix that. Lebreau is right about the fact that it’s time to be settling down. And Lightning can’t stand thinking about Vanille being anyone else’s but her own. Can’t stand having the thought of Vanille being _touched_ by someone else. She wants the best to herself, after all. Call her possessive, but that’s how it’s going to be.

“Hey, Lightning?”

“Hmm?”

Vanille stays lying on the couch. And she looks really comfortable. Which is _comforting_ , in a sense, to Lightning. “Will you come with me to NORA later?”

She blinks. “Thinking of going back to work already? Lebreau’s not going to say yes to that.”

“No,” Vanille says. “I just want to go back to apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

_Honestly,_ this girl. “But you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Mm…” she closes her eyes. “But I should still go and tell them that I’m better now. I don’t want them to worry. Besides,” she reaches for Lightning’s hand. “I want them to know that you’re okay too.”

Lightning feels her throat dry up.

Vanille breathes out. Like she is relieved. Calm. Relaxed. But above all, happy. She grips onto Lightning a bit firmer. “Come with me, okay?”

Sighing, Lightning gives in. She’s too tired to argue anyway. It’s like morning. And she’s had a twelve-hour shift the day before, plus she had to deal with all that shit that’s happened after. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Vanille speaks softly.

A few moments pass by, and Lightning figures that the girl has fallen asleep. She’d go back into her room and crash into her bed, but she can’t just leave Vanille out here. Plus, the girl’s still holding onto her hand. Lightning wouldn’t want to just… yank her own away. That’s rude, isn’t it? She resorts to sliding down onto the floor—as quietly as possible—leaning against the sofa and she slowly closes her eyes.

.  
.

“Vanille?! Is that you? What are you doing here!”

The boys call out before they even step onto the porch—Gadot being the loudest of them all. They drop whatever they are doing, rushing out of the bar to the girl in question, circling her like a group of obsessed-fanboys. If Lightning didn’t know them… well, let’s just say that they should be glad that Lightning _does_ know them. Because. Come on.

“I thought you’d never let her come back.” Lebreau says as she makes her way beside Lightning.

Lightning keeps her eyes on Vanille as she answers. “She insisted. Couldn’t stop her.”

“Hm. So you actually let someone win an argument?”

“We didn’t argue,” Lightning says. “She just wanted to come to let you guys know that she’s okay.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Is she?”

_Damn it, Lebreau._ Asking all these deep questions. She’s always been the nosy type. It’s been like this since high school. There’s no change at all. “I don’t know.”

Lebreau rolls her eyes. “That’s not like you. Don’t you usually excavate every inch of _everything_ for answers?”

She glares at her friend. Like she just stepped over the line or something. Truth is, Lebreau always steps over the line. And Lightning always forgives her. Lebreau’s just one of those people that she can’t help but to forgive just because. You get at least one or two of those friends in your lifetime.

Seeing how troubled the soldier looked, Lebreau decides to change the topic. “Alright. Did you at least find out how she got those scars?”

Lightning feels as though she’s been harpooned through the heart. _Damn._ She really is quite irresponsible, huh? Not just that, but Lebreau’s making it seem as though she’s heartless. She wonders if Vanille thinks the same way. Like, if an outsider can see it, then Vanille can definitely feel it, right? She takes a deep breath, feeling the need to tell her friend everything. From how she was _this close_ to sleeping with Vanille to the fact that she _can’t._ Because she just can’t stand the stress anymore. Of this desire to actually start a long-term relationship—but she can’t because some _fucked up_ part of her still wants to just fuck around.

“I think Vanille’s been abused.”

Lebreau heaves a deep sigh. “Yeah, I figured as much. You know who did it?”

Lightning shakes her head.

Another sigh. “Well, at least she feels safe around you. As long as you’re there to take care of her—”

“I doubt that.” Lightning mutters. “I almost slept with her last night.”

The barmaid’s expression sharpens in an instant. “What?” And it’s scary because Lightning isn’t even looking at her—she’s only seeing this in her peripherals.

“I said I almost fucked her.”

“No, I heard you the first time. I meant, are you fucking kidding me?” Lebreau grunts under her breath. She glances at the group to make sure Vanille is still occupied. “Light, how stupid can you possibly get? After what’s happened last night, you’d think you can control your hormones _just_ a bit.”

“She initiated.”

“I don’t—” Lebreau scoffs. “I don’t give a shit about that. Like, does that change the fact that you were being an idiot? Did it even come to you that she initiated probably because she wants you to be happy? God, you’re so fucking selfish.”

_Yeah,_ Lightning knows. She’s just as pissed off at herself. And she definitely doesn’t blame Lebreau for being so straightforward. In fact, she really needs it. That’s why she told her. So _straightforwardly._

Lebreau rubs at the bridge of her nose. “Okay, look. I don’t know all that much about your relationship with her, but from what I can see, it seems like you only want to be with her because you see her as one of _those_ people. You know? The ones you pick up at club? Is that all she is to you?”

Lightning remains expressionless. She overhears Vanille speaking with the guys, telling them that she’s alright and everything because Lightning’s there to take care of her. _Great._ What impeccable irony.

“Let me make it as simple as I can,” her friend goes on, “Do you actually care about her?”

When Lightning really, _really_ takes Lebreau’s words into mind, she feels all… _weird._ Certainly, there is a degree of concern for Vanille—one that blasts through the rooftops. But is that enough? Would that be enough to maintain the relationship that has yet to start? Lebreau’s question isn’t simply _‘do you care about her’._

_God damn._

Being in a relationship is hard.

“I…” Lightning begins, “I want…”

It’s like Lebreau is tired of all the hesitating and stuttering and stupidity coming from her friend. So she interrupts, “Light. I’m asking all these questions not because I want to put you under the spotlight. I mean, maybe I do, but. It’s more for Vanille’s sake. You know that.” She sighs. “I’m just worried for her. She seems so delicate. And although I won’t take my word back—about how she’s good for you, I’ll still say that _you_ may not be good for her _._ ”

_Ouch._ That blows. The thought of Vanille being with someone else other than herself really, _really_ stings. It’s gut-wrenching. It’s like someone is physically squeezing at her arteries. Lightning clenches her jaw. “I’m trying.” She barely whispers.

“What was that?”

“Lebreau!”

_Speak of the devil_ , the two shift their attention to Vanille, running towards them. While Lebreau is able to put on a smile, Lightning’s having a bit more trouble hiding her distressed face.

“Heya Vanille. Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” she nods, standing next to the soldier. “Lightning was with me the entire night.”

“That’s good to hear.” Lebreau shoots her friend a sinister glance that doesn’t otherwise seem suspicious to anyone but Lightning. “But, Vanille, you know that today’s your day off, right? And I thought I told you to get some rest before coming back.”

Vanille chuckles nervously. “Well, y’know. I wanted to come apologize for all the trouble I’ve caused last night. If it weren’t for me, you guys wouldn’t have to close the shop so early. And it’s only my first week—”

“Okay, okay, Vanille. That’s enough,” Lebreau scolds. If Vanille didn’t know her better, she’d be scared off by the barmaid’s harsh tone. “If you continue to blame yourself like this, I’m actually going to be pissed.”

“S-sorry…” she whimpers.

Lightning glares at her friend. “Hey. Go easy on her.”

“Yeah, Lebreau! Quit being such a tight ass. Vanille’s just trying to be nice.” Gadot says in the background. He’s in the middle of putting the stools down from the tables.

“Right?” Yuj calls from behind the counter. “Don’t scare her away! I don’t want us to lose such a great co-worker!”

“N-not that Lebreau isn’t good enough! I mean, she’s already the boss and everything—”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Maqui. Sucking up to her won’t get you anywhere.”

“I’m just…!”

“Ugh.” Lebreau cuts in, finally breaking their banter. “Speak another word and I’m going to cut your pay for this month.”

She’s not actually going to, Lightning knows, but it’s quite an effective way to shut the boys up. And when they turn completely silent, returning to their tasks at hand, Lebreau mouths at Lightning and Vanille, _works every time._

Vanille giggles, and Lightning would laugh, but the conversation from before still lingers in her mind.

“So.” Lebreau changes the subject. “Where are you guys headed after?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe Lightning can show me around Bodhum? Would that be a good idea for a date?” Vanille directs her question at Lightning.

And Lightning responds with _very_ little enthusiasm. It’s like she’s not even trying. Which. Isn’t inaccurate. “If you want.”

Seeing this, Lebreau scoffs. “Honestly, Light. You’re pathetic,” she actually says out loud. “I don’t know what Vanille sees in you.”

While those words may seem like a teasing comment to everyone else, Lightning knows that the barmaid meant it with all her heart. And in a way, she agrees. Lebreau was hinting at her to _get her shit together_ , because Vanille deserves someone way, _way_ better.

“But I like this about her,” Vanille says all of a sudden.

Lightning is equally surprised as Lebreau, even though she’s heard this like… twice. She’ll just never get tired of Vanille telling her how much and what she likes about her. It’s the most flattering thing to hear, really.

And Lebreau, ever being the nosy one (or, Lightning knows that she’s just concerned. Which is good on Vanille’s part, but still), pries on. “You mean you like that she’s emotionless and boring and just overall a downer to hang around with?”

The subject in question frowns, but Vanille laughs. “Maybe.” She slips her hand into Lightning’s. “But at least I feel safe around her.” Their gaze meet, and Vanille’s immediately softens.

_Ugh those bedroom eyes._

“It’s like she can protect me from anything.”

_Except from me_ , Lightning thinks, and she’s sure as hell that Lebreau’s thinking the same thing.

“Alright then,” Lebreau sighs. “If you say so, Vanille. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Duly noted!” she grins.

“Right then. Go enjoy your day off. And like I said, come back only after you’ve rested enough. This means I’m forbidding you from coming tomorrow as well, okay?”

Vanille looks dejected. “Y-you’re giving me another day off? But that’s—”

“Hey, who’s the boss, here?” Lebreau questions, placing her hands on her hips.

“You are…” Vanille hides her face.

“Glad we have that cleared up. Now get outta here, you two. I need to open soon, and I’ve had enough distractions for the day.”

Somehow, Lebreau is sounding way crankier than usual. Not that Lightning doesn’t know why. Because, like. She’s ultimately the reason her friend’s like this. And cranky Lebreau isn’t someone who she wants to be around for too long. So, “Come on, let’s go.” She says to Vanille, tugging at her tiny hand.

“Okay.” Vanille smiles. It’s like a natural reaction whenever Lightning just looks at her. “Bye, Lebreau. Give my regards to the boys. They seem really busy back there.”

The barmaid just rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh, they really are not. Just acting like it is what they’re doing.”

Vanille lets out a chuckle before waving Lebreau goodbye, and she and Lightning walk off towards the other direction. “So,” she starts, “Where should we go?”

Lightning clears her throat. It really amazes her how she still got all nervous around this girl. “You mentioned you wanted a tour around Bodhum?”

“Yeah!” Vanille bobs her head eagerly. “I heard about that dome thing—with the fireworks? Does it happen every night? You’re supposed to make a wish during the show, right? And then it’ll come true for sure?”

Lightning chuckles. “Slow down. You’re half right.”

“That it happens every night?” Her grin widens.

“No, you were right about the making a wish part. The actual show only happens twice a year.”

And Vanille’s face just _drops._

_Aw shit._ “Um. Well. I can take you there.” She says. “I’ll take you there to watch. The next show should be in a few weeks.”

Vanille gasps. “Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. They move the dome out to the middle of the sea—right around there.” Lightning points to the horizon.

“You mean it’s right in front of the NORA Bar?!”

She nods.

“Oh! That is the best!” Vanille jumps, clapping her hands together. “So even if I had work that day, I can still see it!”

“If you asked, Lebreau would give you the day off.”

“I can’t do that…” Vanille says. “Didn’t you see what she did for me earlier? She’s forcing me to ‘rest’ for another day. Not that I need it… I would much rather go to work and just do something, y’know?”

Perhaps this is the moment Lightning realizes that there is another thing she likes about this girl. The fact that she’s so active and is always occupying herself with something. The fact that she’s not lazy. The fact that she works hard. “Then,” Lightning looks to the side. She’s not sure she can suggest this with a straight face _while_ looking at Vanille. “About that meal? The one you mentioned a few days back? Maybe you can cook one up tomorrow.”

The light returns to Vanille’s green eyes.

“I mean, I don’t know.” Lightning shrugs. “Since I have work tomorrow, I can’t hang out with you during the day. But maybe when I come back, we can have dinner together.” She shifts her eyes back to the girl, scared that she’s delivered her suggestion rudely more than anything else.

But Vanille’s cheeks are all the way up to her ears and she is grinning like an idiot. The sight makes Lightning’s heart melt.

“Yes!” she says. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s a great idea! Okay, let’s see. I’ll go to the supermarket, get the stuff, and then I’ll come back to prepare… maybe we’ll have salad and pasta and something roasted? Oh! And I’ll have to make dessert—”

“Slow down,” Lightning breaks into a small smile. “Try not to give it away? I like the surprise.”

Vanille covers her mouth. “Oops! Sorry…” she laughs.

And Lightning can’t help but to laugh along. Seriously. It’s contagious.

When Vanille finally catches her breath, she is blushing prettily and is fiddling with her fingers. Lightning doesn’t know why, but when she looks at her like this—when she _sees_ Vanille being all nervous and stuff, she feels her heart pounding hard against her ribcage. It’s really weird. But it doesn’t stop her from reaching out to cup the girl’s cheek, tilting her head up. It definitely doesn’t stop her from thinking twice before she leans in to give Vanille a kiss. And _nothing_ is there to pull her away from the tender moment—not the people walking by, not the sound of the waves. Not even the voice of her conscience and Lebreau, screaming at her to _not_ be selfish.

Lightning pulls back, and she realizes that she is out of breath. Vanille is panting and her chest is heaving— _oh god._ Were they full-on making out, tongue and all? Lightning can’t recall. She’s too caught up with the moment. “Um.”

“L-let’s go get something to eat?” Vanille quickly starts. “I’m… I’m really hungry.”

She swallows. “Yeah.”

And Lightning just watches as Vanille walks on ahead.

So much for ‘ _when you’re ready’._ So much for being kind to her, _Lightning._

She rolls her eyes to the thought.

.  
.

 


	6. help me

She knows that she’s good looking. She knows that she’s hot as hell (especially with her clothes off). She knows that _everyone_ at the club would buy her a drink if she so much as _smirks._ It’s only natural. Because, like. Come on. Who the hell can look like _this_?

So why is it that she feels so shitty, so gross, and so _fucking disgusting_ when she’s looking at herself in the mirror?

Somewhere at the back of her head, a voice tells her that she’s thinking too much. That she’s just being stupid (again). But— _damn it, conscience, can’t you chastise me when I know I’m doing a shit job?—_ Lightning brushes away the thought and straightens her uniform. Not that it needs any straightening. It’s leather, after all. So she takes one last look at the mirror, turning to the side to make sure that her crimson cape is strapped on properly before heading out her room.

When a pleasant aroma of coffee and bacon and eggs— _and…. pancakes?!—_ fills her senses, all the negative thoughts she’s had just a few moments prior are somewhat taken away. Maybe it’s because Lightning has a thing for stuff that smells good. Or maybe she’s just trying to hide. It’s most likely the latter.

“Good morning.” A voice calls to her before she enters the room. Must’ve heard her slam her bedroom door shut or something.

“You’re up early.” Lightning greets. Rather rudely, if she may add.

“Yep! I wanted to make you breakfast. To, y’know? Start the meal off.” Vanille leans her elbows on the kitchen counter and pushes a plate forward, gesturing at the stool to Lightning.

“I didn’t know that it included breakfast,” she sits and her eyes would be bulging at the food if she weren’t so skilled at hiding her inner thoughts. She grabs a nearby fork and starts poking at her pancakes. “Thought the deal was just dinner.”

Vanille laughs. And, _god,_ why does it sound so sweet every single time? Lightning can never get enough of it. “It’s nothing much. I just though, well, I should really do something for you.”

Lightning raises her brow, staring at the girl in front of her with bemusement. “You… are making a big dinner for me tonight.” She reiterates.

“No, I mean. Um. Like—” Vanille is stuttering. And this is probably even cuter to look at than… _well,_ Lightning doesn’t know yet. So far, everything Vanille does is cute as hell, so. There really is no point in comparing Vanille with Vanille.

“Like…?” She keeps her brows risen.

Vanille is blushing by now and is trying so hard to avoid eye contact. Jeez, what does she have to say? Lightning can’t stand the suspense. And look at how she’s fiddling with her fingers. And those eyes, shifting, darting from side to side. And— _oh god—_ don’t even get her started on the way she bites onto her lower lip. The longer she looks, the harder it is for her to breathe. Lightning thinks she’s starting to develop a condition.

“Lightning, may I ask you something very sensitive?”

 _Welp._ Breathing is ten times harder now. “What is it?”

“Promise not to be mad though, okay?”

“Okay.”

Vanille bites onto her lip again, and nothing but _hesitation_ is plastered across her face. Yet, she goes on with it. What a trooper. “I-I know that you really want to, um. T-to sleep with me.”

Her heart drops.

“And… and I do too. Really, I do. Please understand that.” Vanille continues as she looks down.

Lightning can tell she’s trying to hide her tomato-red face. She wasn’t kidding when she said that this is a sensitive topic. Awkwardness is overloading in the room, so she just stays quiet.

“I mean. I know that you’re a very ac… active person.” Vanille swallows, as if that’s going to ease the awkwardness. “But, um. Last night or, rather, yesterday morning, what we did… or—I-I’m sorry—what we _almost_ did, I know it’s difficult for you. And I know you’re trying really hard for… for _me._ ”

It’s like the longer this conversation drags on, the more oxygen is escaping the room. Lightning is very sure she’s hyperventilating by now. Or she thinks she is. Who knows. But, _god_ , somebody’s got to give it to Vanille. This is like the world’s most awkward conversation and she’s still managing. What a champ.

“But my point is,” Vanille looks up, finally making eye contact with Lightning again (though the latter is trying her utter best to not look away), “I wasn’t lying when I said that I liked you. And that I do feel what we have can become bigger. But I just—I just want to be the one to ask you this time…”

She has her full attention. Especially since Vanille’s sounding so damn earnest. Lightning waits patiently for her to go on.

“Would… would you be willing to wait for me? A-at least, until I’m ready?”

Hearing that, Lightning finds herself loosening up. Why was she nervous in the first place? This really isn’t anything big. Okay, well. It’s probably because she thought Vanille was going to break up with her or something. How silly. Lightning brings up a soft smile and reaches across the counter for Vanille’s hand and she brings it to her lips. Lightning kisses her knuckles and it really is quite an affectionate gesture, especially for her, but, _eh_.

Vanille becomes impossibly red, but she breaks into a smile—one that is equally as soft as Lightning’s. “Thank you. When the time comes… when I’m ready, I’ll tell you everything as well.”

Lightning tenses a little. “You don’t have to.”

Vanille shakes her head. “I want to.”

She sighs, kisses Vanille’s hand again and intertwines their fingers together on the counter.

Vanille giggles. “Lightning, if you don't eat your breakfast soon, you’re going to be late.” She eyes their joined hands adorably. “And you can’t eat while holding my hand…”

Lightning simply waves her left hand and then picks up her fork.

Vanille just breathes out contently and watches as Lightning eats.  

.  
.

Honestly, when she goes to work, she really just chills. Like, if you call target practice, drill exercise, working out, and… okay, well, strategic planning and patrolling aren’t really chill, but for the majority, working at the Corps is very easy. Essentially, working here helps her maintain her figure. Except she really doesn’t need to work out that much anymore. Lightning is confident enough with her body. It’s like coming to work is just a means to keep in shape. To think that she’s getting paid to stay in shape not for commercial purposes is kind of ridiculous. And. To think that she joined in the first place so that she can—

Lightning slams her locker shut.

You know what? Never mind. Being one of the few women in the squad, she often (if not all the time) has the change room to herself. Which explains why many of her fellow teammates aren’t exactly ‘close friends’ with her. Because, like. The bonding and everything happens in the change room. And she has no one to bond with. And it’s not like she talks much with her partners during patrol, either. Lightning’s just, overall, a very boring character.

So when Torreno, one of the soldiers from her squad, invites her to his wedding (which is very sudden, mind you), she is genuinely surprised. To be honest though, Lightning doesn’t even know if she wants to go. If she _cares_ to go. It’s not like her being there would make much of a difference. It’s not like she talks to the guy much anyway. In fact, if she does go, she might end up getting drunk _before_ talking to the guy. _Oh, joy._

She exits the room and doesn’t bother to shoot anyone a glance before she heads for the exit. It’s been a rather slow day, and to be frank, she’s actually looking forward to eating some of that home-cooked meal Vanille’s been preparing for the entire day.

“Farron! Hey, sergeant!”

 _God damn._ Lightning fights the urge to grimace. “Lieutenant Amodar, sir.” She spins to salute the man.

The taller and much bigger man chuckles. “At ease, soldier girl. It’s already after hours for you. I, on the other hand, have to stay here for another five.”

Lightning isn’t really in for small talks, but for the sake of respect, “Working on some big case, sir?”

“Ah, I’d tell you,” Amodar says. “But it’s classified. Maybe one day I’ll let you in on the details. For now, only the higher ups are given permission to even know of this ordeal.”

“I see,” Lightning answers with little enthusiasm. “Well, don’t let me keep you. I’ll head—”

“You going to Torreno’s wedding, kid?”

Okay, so she’s been reduced from sergeant to solider girl, all the way to _kid_ in the midst of thirty seconds. Or less. “I’m still thinking about it. Not sure if I have the time. He told me so last minute—”

“Nonsense! It’s on a Saturday and even I know that you’re off then!” Amodar’s voice blasts through the roofs and Lightning sees the few people in the corridor covering their ears. Lightning herself, however, has to be polite. So she just winces a little. “Now, don’t make anymore excuses, young lady, or I will have to deduct your salary.”

Lightning highly doubts he can do that. She forces a chuckle in response.

“You gotta loosen up!” the man nudges her on the elbow, pushing her back a little. “It’s always work for you. Maybe you’ll finally find someone suitable for you at the party, yeah? Wouldn’t that be something.”

There are several things Lightning wants to tell her lieutenant. One. It’s not _always work_ for her. She does have a life. It’s just nothing she would share. Because, you know. It’s nothing glamourous. And two, Lightning wants to tell him that she _kind of_ has found someone suitable already. But to be fair, she kind of hasn’t. Well, it’s more like she has, but, like. _Ugh._ When she puts it the other way around, then she hasn’t. Actually, she doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say anymore. This is getting really trippy.

“Whatever the case,” Amodar slaps her on the back, pushing her forward. Lightning choked and felt for a split second that she could cough out her lungs or something. “Just relax and go, alright? Grab a drink. Socialize. Do _something_.”

Yep. Amodar is probably a bit too old to know that’s what she does all the time. Lightning thinks that she should be glad her lieutenant is a generation older than she is. Because the rest of the squad sure as hell knows. She also thinks that she should be thankful the soldiers aren’t gossipy. Otherwise what little reputation she has left in Bodhum would be ruined. She would have to move to Palumpolum or something.

“We’ve never drank together before, am I wrong?”

Lightning smiles slightly and shakes her head.

“Perfect. Heard you’re quite the tank. I’ll be looking forward then, okay? Don’t you back out on me, kid.”

She chuckles, genuinely this time, and watches as Amodar walks off to the opposite direction. Well, that kind of eased some tension. Not that she _wants_ to go to the wedding now, but like, she doesn’t feel as irritated about her invitation. Lightning heaves a sigh and heads for the exit. She glances at the invitation stuffed in her pocket earlier and sees that “plus-ones are allowed” and smiles a little.

.  
.

One may argue that Lightning’s extremely experienced at the art of courting, but the woman in question would tell you in a heartbeat that she is _shit_ at it. After all, she never had to chase anyone. _People_ chased her. It’s only natural. Because, like, _look at her._ Lightning is fucking gorgeous. Even when she’s in sweats and PJs. Except she isn’t in either one of those right now. She’s in her Guardian Corps uniform.

Anyway, what Lightning means is that although many think that she’s the master at courting, she actually has absolutely zero experience in it.

Sure, she’s had several partners without really trying, but that’s only because she wanted to sleep with them. Give them a smirk, a smile, or even a wink—and _done._ It’s just that easy. Especially under the loud music, the influence of alcohol, the wild lights, and surrounded by hordes of sweaty, horny people. If she’s not being obvious enough, Lightning means that she would have no problem getting someone at a nightclub. But right now, something so cheap and unbecoming and _immature_ is not what she’s aiming for. Lightning wants the _Holy Grail._ She wants someone who is actually girlfriend-material. Someone who isn’t shallow and horny and clingy.

Maybe she’s exaggerating. Maybe Vanille isn’t exactly the Holy Grail, but to Lightning, who has never actually experienced a proper _romantic_ relationship all her life, this may be as close as she can get.

So. Lightning decides to be _romantic_ about it. She goes to the florist and gets some red roses. Because everyone likes red roses right? She doesn’t care too much for what the colour or type of flower symbolize.

“Would you like anything else?” the florist—a cute redhead ( _but Vanille is cuter)_ —asks.

Lightning didn’t even intend to look at the girl, but _damn._ The corner of her lips arch, and _just like clockwork,_ the florist blushes.

“Um… t-then I’ll just wrap these up for you.” She stutters and struggles to even walk straight.

And Lightning’s gaze just follows the backside of the girl until she enters the back room. It’s almost like she is cast under a spell, because as soon as her figure disappears, Lightning sobers up and thinks immediately, _god, what the fuck._ Lightning rubs at her temples and thinks it’s necessary to just put on her resting bitch-face 24/7 because, well, how else is she going to avoid situations like this?

The florist returns, wrapping paper in hand and she begins to place the roses neatly into it. Lightning notices that the girl is shooting glances at her every now and then. And although she has every intention to return those flirtatious (she supposes) gestures, Lightning all but remains expressionless. Someone _way_ cuter is waiting for her at home, after all.

“Here you go, miss.”

“Thank you.” Lightning simply says.

“Whoever’s getting them must be a lucky person.”

She regards the girl with a simple nod and pays the amount and heads for the exit. Every fibre of her tells her to turn back to at least _return_ one of those glances, but Lightning fights. She fights and fights with everything she has and she is deemed successful once she passes through the threshold.

Lightning heaves a heavy, heavy sigh. Because. She’s victorious. Why else?

But honestly. That florist was super cute.

.  
.

Lighting doesn’t know if it’s appropriate to just enter her home. Well, of course it’s appropriate—like the place belongs to her. Thing is, she’s technically a guest tonight, isn’t that so? Vanille’s the one hosting the dinner _for_ her. So technically, just for tonight, the place belongs to Vanille. Lightning doesn’t know if she’s just thinking too much or is freaking out or is getting way too nervous. Maybe it’s a combination of everything.

Well then.

Now that she’s come to that conclusion. Should she ring the doorbell, or should she just go in?

She clears her throat. This really shouldn’t be as complicated as she’s making it seem. _God damn it._ Come on. Pull yourself together, _Lightning._ So she takes a deep breath and decides to do what she does best—to just do whatever the fuck she wants. Lightning lets the scanner read her finger and the door clicks open. It opens into a tiny crack and right away, Lightning smells it. What is it exactly, roasted chicken? Grilled salmon? Baked potatoes? Or is it the mix of onions and green peppers sautéing? _God,_ Lightning doesn’t know. All she knows is that her mouth is watering, and if she keeps the door opened like this, the neighbours are going to ask if they can join for dinner. Which is a big no-no.

“Oh, Lightning!”

She looks up and is greeted by a beaming smile. Vanille is dressed casually in short-shorts and a pink tank top. It’s not sexy or anything, but that apron wrapped around her definitely accentuates her adorableness— _wait, is that even a word? Adorableness?_

“You’re home already! A-and…” Vanille stops. Her gaze shifts to the bouquet of flowers in Lightning’s hands.

 _Oh._ Lightning clears her throat again. “Um. Yeah. Got off a bit earlier than expected. So I went shopping for a bit,” she takes off her boots and steps closer to Vanille. “And. I got you these.”

Vanille takes the bouquet gingerly. “You really shouldn’t have…” her voice trails off into a whisper.

“I wanted to,” Lightning reasons. “This is a date, isn’t it? You’re treating me tonight and I’d feel bad if I didn’t play my role as…”— _cough_ — _“_ … your, um. Partner. Properly. So I just got them.”

Vanille breaks into a soft chuckle. She is hiding her flushed face behind the flowers. Lightning thinks that it is a pretty sight—Vanille’s bright orange hair mingling with the vibrant red colour of the roses and everything just _shines._

“Thank you so much, Lightning.” Vanille takes a step closer. She tiptoes, “I really like them,” and kisses Lightning on the cheek.

It’s only natural. Blood rushes up to her head and Lightning feels light-headed, _and so on and so forth_.

“But… there’s only one problem.”

Lightning almost gasps.

And Vanille seems to have noticed, because she is giggling. “I’m not entirely done with the meal yet. It’s a bit embarrassing to say, but could you please hold onto these for me?” she hands Lightning the flowers, almost reluctantly.

But she isn’t offended in any way. In fact, she is relieved. Taking the flowers, she breaks into a small smile. “How about I help you set up the table as well?”

Vanille grins. “You’re a keeper.”

Lightning blushes again. _Stupid Vanille and her stupid flattery._ She might be as good as flirting with words as Lightning is with her small actions. No, scratch that. Vanille’s as good as flirting with words _and_ actions. Perhaps even better. By a _mile._ And that is a scary thought, because Lightning doesn’t want Vanille flirting (directly or indirectly) with anyone else other than herself. So she has to be better. _God damn it._ Lightning screams at herself to _do_ better.

She quickly grabs a vase from a cabinet below the kitchen sink and fills it halfway with water.

“Need help?” Vanille asks as she rinses her hands beside her.

“I should be asking you,” she glances at the stove, where at least three things are cooking simultaneously.

“No, I’m fine. This really is nothing.”

Lightning breathes out. “Alright then.” She unwraps the bouquet and places each rose into the vase meticulously. She doesn’t even know that she’s bought fifty all together. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. No wonder the bouquet was so freaking heavy. Hopefully the vase can fit everything. But if not, _eh,_ she’ll just throw them away.

What’s twenty or so less roses? Give or take thirty gils or so.

Lo and behold—she can only fill up to half. Lightning rolls her eyes. Okay well, she’s too hungry to deal with this shit. She turns to look at Vanille in the kitchen. It seems like she’s almost done. So maybe it’s smarter to deal with table setting first. Lightning moves the vase and the rest of the roses to the coffee table next to the sofa. In a flash, she returns to the kitchen and gets everything—forks, knives, spoons, plates, napkins, _wine glasses_ (because she’s spotted champagne in the fridge when Vanille opened it earlier).

She finishes quickly, as she usually does with everything _in her life,_ and so she just stands awkwardly next to the dining table.

Vanille seems to have spotted this, because she’s giggling again.

_What a lovely sound._

“Lightning, maybe you want to change out of your clothes first? I’ll be done in about ten minutes.”

She bobs her head and makes her way into her room. She’d be discarding her clothes _on the way_ if this were _some other_ scenario, but this is date night with Vanille. _Gotta control yourself, Lightning._ She strips into her underwear and instinctively, like any other woman in the world, starts checking herself in the mirror.

 _Hm,_ she thinks. If she and Vanille were to be _at it_ tonight, then she’s wearing the right stuff. But then another voice interferes: _no. No one’s going at it tonight._

Lightning visibly droops her shoulders. Visibly because she can see herself do it in the mirror. She rumples through her pink hair, brushing the strands to her scalp but they just fall back to their original place. She lets out a deep sigh and steps backwards until she falls into the bed. God, what the hell is she doing? Why is she still thinking like that when they’ve already established this morning that they’re going to take it slow? Maybe she really is just one _horny mother fucker_. The thought of it sickens her. Lightning covers her eyes with her forearm, thinking that somehow, she can find solace this way.

.  
.

The meal is the best thing that Lightning’s ever had. Vanille does this thing with your typical spices where she just mixes them up so ingeniously that everything blends like magic in the mouth. Lightning’s never one for overly-flavourful food, and this is precisely why everything Vanille’s made is so damn good.

The girl’s managed to opened up some fresh, raw oysters as appetizer. Lightning doesn’t even know where Bodhum sells oysters this good. She really should be ashamed to call herself a resident of this town. Then there’s this classic pan-seared ribeye steak that is cooked to medium rare, which, in Lightning’s point of view, is the _best._ And the seafood sauce added to the al dente spaghetti— _god damn._ Lightning just wants to _marry_ this girl. Even the organic salad that Vanille’s picked seemed to taste heavenly. Lightning is starting to think that she is just extremely biased when it comes to anything that Vanille does, and honestly, she can’t see that it’s a problem.

“There’s still dessert,” Vanille says as she wipes the corner of her lips with a napkin.

Lightning widens her eyes. She doesn’t know how to say it, but she’s, like, really _fucking full._ If she eats anymore she feels that she’s going to die. But— _oh god—_ she wants to eat so much more. She wants so much more from Vanille.

_Wait, that sounded—_

“But I know you’re full. Honestly, I am too,” Vanille laughs. “So, maybe we can save it for tomorrow? It’s just a small tiramisu I’ve prepared…”

“Sure,” Lightning takes a sip of the red wine she’s opened up. _Of course it has to be red wine—_ was what she told herself earlier when she saw the steak.

Vanille does the same thing, taking a sip from her wine glass. Lightning sees that it is almost emptied and so she pours her some more.

“Oh, no. I’m fine. Red wine hits me harder than anything else…”

“It’s alright,” Lightning shrugs. “You’re at home,” she goes on to pour the girl some wine. “If you do get drunk, you can just pass out and no one would care.”

Vanille giggles. “I can’t do that. You’re here.”

Lightning raises a brow. “It’s just me,” and just as she speaks the following words, she starts to realize how much she actually doubts herself, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

She pauses and looks straight into the girl’s eyes.

And Vanille shakes her head in response. “ _Because_ it’s you.”

Silence takes over, and Lightning can’t tell if it’s a comfortable silence, or the type that she can’t bear. Maybe it’s somewhere in between. Oddly enough, despite the tension, she finds herself to be the one to speak out. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

Vanille shakes her head again. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me.”

She tilts her head in confusion. And then she notices Vanille looking down, presumably trying to hide her embarrassed expression. She can’t tell if Vanille is blushing because of _whatever this is_ or because of the wine. But _damn_ is she red.

Her shoulders scrunched up to her ears, Vanille goes on, “Lightning, about what I told you this morning, I… I lied.”

_What? Lied? About what? About how she doesn’t actually want to have sex with her? Oh god, oh no—_

Suddenly, without any warning, Vanille stands straight up. She’s still avoiding eye contact, however. “If I drink anymore, I don’t think I can hold myself back. A-and that will totally go against everything we told each other this morning. I don’t want that.”

_Wait, wait. What?!_

“But it’s so hard, you know?” Vanille continues. “Every time I see you, I just…”

“Vanille,” Lightning finally interrupts.

The girl just stays quiet.

 _Shit._ What can she possibly say? What _did_ she want to say when she interrupted her? Wouldn’t it all be better if she just let her spur on, talking nonsense? _You know,_ it’s not really nonsense. Geez. Lightning doesn’t even know who she’s talking to. Who is _you_? Who’s listening to her mind ramble?

“I think,” _oh no, Lightning, what are you about to say?_ “I think you should do what you want to do.”

Vanille finally brings her head up.

“Whatever happens, I’ll look after you. I promise.”

Another moment of silence. This time, Lightning can tell it’s the comfortable type. But it’s still ironically so tense. Probably because Vanille’s staring at her with those gorgeous wide eyes of hers. Damn. It’s so lethal. Lightning wants to turn away but Vanille’s just so beautiful to look at—whatever her expression may be.

Then, a smile cracks. Vanille breathes out. “Then, Lightning,” she brings a palm to her chest, “Will you give me a hug? I… I’ve been holding back all day. And I… a hug, I think, will be enough. For now.”

Likewise, Lightning breathes out. A sigh of relief. She stands from her chair and walks around the table, opening her arms for the girl. And Vanille just walks into her embrace while still wearing that sweet smile.

So, essentially—and this makes her feel a _trillion times_ better—Lightning has discovered that she is not the only one feeling all horny and uneasy and shit. Vanille feels the same way. Well, maybe minus the horny part for the girl. Point is, Lightning’s understanding now that it’s just a matter of timing. They both know that if they were to go any further _right now,_ things will fall apart. And because neither wants that—because both of them want _this_ to last, they need to hold back. They need to take it slow.

Knowing this, knowing that Vanille _knows_ this, Lightning just feels so much better. She holds Vanille tightly in her arms and just breathes in.

“There’s this thing. A wedding,” Lightning hears herself say awkwardly.

“Hmm?”

She swallows. She’s going to have to go through with it, whether she’s prepared or not. “My co-worker. He’s getting married and invited the entire GC. I don’t really want to go, but it’s bad manners. So I’m going to go. And he told us to bring our, uh, _plus ones._ ”

Vanille pulls back. She blinks at Lightning curiously, urging her to go on in silence.

“So. What I’m saying is. Do you want to, um, come with me? As my, like… plus one?”

Emeralds sparkling with delight, Vanille blinks several more times before opening her mouth for a brief moment—as if in astonishment—before closing them again. It’s like she’s trying to compose the words in her mind before speaking it out, but bewilderment has gotten the better of her and she’s really just trying to contain herself right now, to be honest.

But then she’s wearing the hugest grin Lightning has ever seen, and she can’t help it but to smile along.

“I’ll… take that as a yes, then?” She offers nervously. Vanille finally chuckles. The sound is so rich and bubbly. It makes Lightning’s heart jump. But she’s fucking nervous, and more importantly, despite it being so blatantly obvious by now, Lightning’s a paranoid piece of shit so she wants to make sure. “You have to say something, or I’m just going to stay like this until… well, until you tell me.”

The shorter girl prolongs her smile. “I wouldn’t mind that, actually,” her arms around Lightning’s waist slip higher to the shoulder blades. “You’re a good hugger.”

She feels her cheeks turn pink. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

_Ugh. Seriously. Can she not be so awkward for once?_

Vanille appears to be amused by her reaction, though. It’s weird, and still entirely new to Lightning. Because she’s always the assertive one in a relationship (if she can call those _encounters_ that), and to suddenly feel so inferior and, in a way, submissive, is just… _odd._

Shit. Is this going to threaten her role in bed?!

“I’ll come.”

And blood just _shoots_ up to her head. “W-what?”

Vanille blinks. “I’ll… come. To the wedding?”

“Oh.” Lightning says. Fuck. Vanille meant come _._ Not, like, _come._ But, uh, anyway—

“But I don’t have anything to wear…” Vanille starts. “I’ll go shopping tomorrow. Maybe I’ll pick up something nice.”

Well, Lightning certainly didn’t think ahead. Vanille’s not a local and it didn’t occur to her that she needs to go out to buy a dress for an occasion as special as a wedding. Honestly, these events are a waste of time. Like Lightning mentioned, she really doesn’t care much for Torreno (that’s the guy getting married, right? Not another co-worker?). She’s going really just so she can establish Vanille as her _plus one,_ both publically and to reassure herself.

And she certainly doesn’t think ahead when she says, “I should have something that fits you.”

Vanille laughs. “Lightning, you’re a head taller than me. And your body is so much nicer. I’ll just make the entire outfit look like a mess.”

She shakes her head in response and pulls away. “It’s not mine. I have clothes from my—”

_No_

“—from… she’s…”

_left you_

“… she’s…”

_doesn’t need you_

“…n-not here and I… I don’t—”

_useless_

“—n-no…”

Lightning is physically struggling. Not just her voice, but her entire body is locked in place but she’s _bead sweating and shaking_ and she can’t seem to continue talking. It’s like some outer space anomaly is invading her nerves, attacking her god damn brain and she can’t _fucking think and speak and be honest with Vanille and she’s a mess and she promised herself this won’t happen again but whyisshesopathetic—_

“Lightning,” Vanille pulls her in, soft fingers run through the back of her head and she strokes her gently, _gently._ Vanille whispers into her ear, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” The soothing voices brushes against Lightning’s aching skin and it doesn’t happen immediately, but almost in slow motion, her tense muscles begin to relax. Slowly. Gradually.

She feels safe. She feels wanted. She doesn’t feel abandoned.

Lightning tells herself all of this, in her head, again and again. Like a mantra.

_Don’t stop_

_Don’t stop_

Vanille is here.

_Vanille is here._

She doesn’t need anyone else.

…

“Are you feeling better?”

Lightning doesn’t know how much time has passed, but she does know that she’s stopped shaking like the pathetic little girl that she is. That’s what she is. _A little girl._

“… Lightning?”

“Yeah,” she lies. And then she draws back.

_Fake a smile._

She does. It’s easy.

“I’m fine.”

.  
.


	7. gently

But she's not  _fine._

Lightning's ears are ringing. Still ringing. She can pretend that she's okay, tell herself that she's over it, look at the TV and act as though she's really interested in whatever's on (it's not on). She knows she's capable of pretending, because she practices every day.

That's all she does now, anyway. Pretend.

So why is it so hard to maintain her composure right now? Why does she feel so out of practice?

But she can't be vulnerable now. Not with Vanille at the corner of her eyes. The girl insisted on tidying up, which doesn't really make sense because she's cooked that wonderful meal while Lightning basically did nothing. She clenches her fists, shuts her eyes and  _swears_ that by the time Vanille returns from the kitchen, she would have returned to her normal self.

_Just breathe. Breathe. Deep breaths._

It's obviously futile because she's just so… so restless.  _God._ What is wrong with her? Why is she like this? These  _incidents_  have long stopped. Why is it that just the slightest mention of Se—

"…!" Lightning covers her ears. She resists the urge to curl up into a fetal position. It's gross, utterly embarrassing for a soldier such as herself to behave so pathetically. Like, what is she, a child? How can she be struggling with abandonment issues?  _What the fuck_ is wrong with her?

_Breathe. Please. Just breathe._

She can't let anyone see her like this. No one's ever seen her like this. Not since her parents died, not since she's forced herself to take responsibility. Nobody. Not even  _her. Nobody_ —

"Lightning."

— _needs you._

Another sharp pain stabs her in the head. It makes her wince, probably a bit too loudly.  _Ugh,_ she doesn't know. She can't even hear anymore. Lightning wants more than anything to run straight to her room, lock the door, and hide in her bed. That's usually how she copes. And it usually works. It usually works, but  _why oh why_ can't she find strength in her legs? This throbbing pain radiating in her head has somehow spread downwards, paralyzing her lower body. It makes her so sick.

_So sick._

"I need you—"

She gasps. A pair of arms wrap around her from the side. It's so gentle, so soft, so careful.

But it also makes her skin burn.

"I need you to listen to my voice,"

 _Oh,_ she's trying. She's trying so hard. Lightning actually loves hearing Vanille talk, but right now, everything is dialed up to eleven. The slightest sound is piercing her ears and the light peeking through her eyelids makes her squirm with discomfort. She can hear the air, the dripping in the sink, and  _please,_ please, would somebody turn off the lights, the white noises, and the entire FUCKING WORLD?

"I c-can't…"

Vanille pulls Lightning closer to her chest. She lets Lightning listen to her heartbeat as she strokes her head, lightly combing through those soft, pink locks. She does all of this while whispering soft nothings into Lightning's scalp. "Listen to me, Lightning. Listen. It's okay. You're okay."

Is it really, though? Does Vanille seriously think that she can handle her? Lightning knows that she's a handful. If she weren't, people wouldn't leave her. Why  _do_ people leave her? It's so strange. She's never done anything wrong ( _you have_ ). She only tries to help others ( _lies_ ). She's an adult. She does everything with utmost perfection. She's capable of doing so much more. Because if she can't deliver, people start leaving. J-just like…

— _you never change!_

A-and even Vanille will judge her. She'll leave her too.

— _being with you is so suffocating—_

… but maybe that's for the better.

— _I'm leaving—_

Yes _,_ that's right. Who would want to stay to look after such a wreck?

She's doing Vanille a favour. Do it.  _Lightning,_ just say it.

"I'm not," Lightning gasps. Through the ringing and the heavy air and the scent of lavender from Vanille, she manages to speak at last. "I'm n-not good enough…"

There.  _There._ She's said it. Saying it doesn't make her feel particularly good, but at least she doesn't feel like vomiting anymore. Now for the imminent look of pity from Vanille. Lightning's ready. If Vanille is going to leave her after hearing and seeing how pathetic and miserable she is… it's going to hurt, but she's ready.

A moment, and then Vanille breathes out. "Oh, but Lightning," she holds the soldier closer to her chest. "We never are. That's you and me included."

The ringing has subsided; Lightning does as she is told and tries to only focus on Vanille's voice. And she finds solace in that and in the steady beating of Vanille's heart.  _Oh god._ Everything about this girl is so calming. Lightning knows she shouldn't. Like she  _really_ shouldn't. But,  _fuck it,_ she can't stop herself.

So she doesn't.

Lightning brings her head up. The moment they make eye contact—the  _second_ blue meets green, Vanille is pushed onto her back.

"I'm not good enough," Lightning says again, never looking away.

Vanille's arms are wrapped around her neck. There isn't an ounce of fear in the girl's eyes, but there is a sense of…  _what is it?_ Lightning can't really find the right word. Hesitance? Doubt? Or is it—

"… I'm not either," Vanille says. She brings her hands up to frame Lightning's face, tracing her cheekbones with delicate fingers. "But I want to try." And then she reaches up.

Lightning doesn't have the liberty to take in that ( _what is that?)_ expression because Vanille is pulling her down. The girl is initiating, but it feels so weird—out of place, even. She doesn't know how to move, let alone react. Lightning just stays completely still as Vanille's lips graze her cheek, up to her ear.

"Lightning…"

Her eyes widen. She's frozen in place, and Vanille seems to notice, because she has lied back down. It is then Lightning is granted to opportunity to see her expression again.

_Oh._

Vanille moves Lightning's bangs away from her eyes, and Lightning sees. "Vanille…" she sees the disappointment in her gaze. How disappointing _she_ has been. After all that talk about taking it slow. She's still like this. She never changes. Never improves.  _Never._

"I mean what I said," Vanille begins. "I want this to work— _us._ And if this is what we have to do, then I'll try."

It breaks her heart to hear that. Lightning's breath sharpens the slightest. Vanille has pulled her down again. She's kissing along her cheek, down the tendons of her neck, lower,  _lower,_ and Lightning can tell Vanille knows what she's doing. It's strange, but it feels oddly practiced. Like she isn't used to it, she doesn't like it, but she  _knows_  it.

And then, it hit her—"Wait." Lightning pulls back to the other end of the sofa, far from Vanille. Her chest heaves and her head spins. Despite being the fit soldier that she is, Lightning knows that she will double over if she stands right now. So this will do.

Vanille sits up as well, staying on her own end of the sofa. She remains silent. And this speaks  _volumes_ to Lightning.

"Vanille—"

"You mind after all, don't you?"

Lightning turns to her. "What?"

"That I…" Vanille crosses her arms. She looks so small. "… I've been…"

"No!" she cuts in, "That's not it." She feels her blood boil. The adrenaline is coursing through her veins and she just  _has to do something._ Lightning scoots over to Vanille's side and takes a hold of her wrist.

The girl looks up.

"I…" Lightning swallows. What is she trying to say? What is she even trying to  _do_? She has no right. All she's been doing is mope, act useless. Her sick,  _twisted_ mind only ever caters to her desires, and what did that result in? She wants to run. But when she catches those green eyes she adores so much, she's locked in again. And it doesn't matter anymore, her mind tells her. She needs to do something. Please.  _Something._  "I'm so messed up, Vanille," she voices out her thoughts. It's a start. "Everything that I've done in the past. It's driven the people I care about away. A-and I don't want the same to happen to you."

Vanille just stares. Her tired eyes connect intently with Lightning's.

And the soldier instantly starts blushing. This is going to turn into a lame confession, but she has to push through. For once in her life,  _please just try._ "Vanille, I know I'm not much… but I'll try." Lightning brushes the girl's locks away from her eyes, pushing them behind her ear, "I'll… try to be fair to you. If I'm stepping over the line, you need to tell me. Because I-I don't know. I'm just that bad at this stuff." Lightning thinks she's talking too much at this point, but she needs to know, "Would that be okay? I understand if this is too much to ask, like, I…" she pauses, recollecting how miserable she was just moments before "… I can understand."

Vanille's lips part a little, like she has a response. But she holds back. Lightning is unsure whether the girl is hesitant because she's heard the most pathetic confession ever, or that she's somehow touched by said pathetic confession. Whatever the case, Lightning feels her throat go dry. It hurts to swallow, but she does it anyway because it's getting so scratchy. Their eyes are still locked, but while Vanille's gaze is wavering, searching—uncertain, Lightning's, for once, is determined. Like she's fixated on her decision to do what she has voiced.

It's only natural then that Lightning doesn't notice the change in Vanille's expression because she's too concerned with herself. Doesn't notice the slight arch in those pink lips. Doesn't even notice Vanille leaning in, until her forehead rests on her shoulder. Lightning shifts a little, so that when Vanille turns her head, she can feel the girl breathing into her neck.

"I guess we're equally messed up," Vanille speaks. Her soft voice somehow vibrates comfortably in Lightning's eardrums. Like it's the most beautiful sound ever. Probably because she can hear the smile in the girl's voice. It makes her feel so safe to hear that usual tone again.

So Lightning's mood turns for the better. She breathes out in relief. "Then we complement each other quite well."

Vanille pulls back briefly and their eyes clash. Lightning doesn't have the liberty to take in that warm expression because Vanille has leaned in, lightly brushing her lips against the corner of her mouth, and she just freezes. Lightning stays completely still as those soft lips drag along hers. Their foreheads and the tips of their nose touch; Vanille nibbles at Lightning's lower lip with her own, again and again. It's an entirely innocent yet endearing gesture, which is why Lightning doesn't know how to react. Everything is so soft, so gentle—Lightning doesn't know any of this. Doesn't understand.

The touch of Vanille's lips continues as she moves higher, where she kisses Lightning's ear, eyelid, and forehead. And then Vanille rests her palm on the soldier's cheek before pulling away. "We do."

.  
.

Lightning has woken up long ago. She's called in to take a sick day, and there is no way they wouldn't give it to her. After all, she hasn't taken a single sick day since she's joined the Corps. In fact, Amodar has told her at one point that if she doesn't take any days off soon, the higher-ups might just force her on vacation.

Well, there are benefits of working for the Sanctum other than the high salary.

Wait till they hear about how she suffers from abandonment issues, leading her to experience chronic panic attacks.  _Ooh._ The Great Lightning Farron, needing therapy. Wouldn't that be something?

She's pretty sure she won't lose her job. The GC has programs that rehabilitate soldiers, after all. But it's not like she's going to confess that she's fucked up. Jeez. She's okay. At least for now, she is.

Lightning pushes the depressing thoughts away and slaps on a grey, oversized hoodie, opting for a pair of dark short-shorts because it's not like she needs to wear anything fancy at home. She'll probably just stay in to hang out with Vanille for the rest of the day.

Speaking of the girl.

Lightning presses her fingers against her lips.

She admits— _has already admitted_ —that she hasn't kissed many people. The times that she'd kissed were always so aggressive, rushed, and, like. They just lacked something. Her blue eyes dart up and she sees herself in the mirror, cheeks reddened, brows arched inward, and she looks like some child having an internal strife of some sort. Which, honestly, isn't really off from what's really happening.  _Oh boy._ A sigh. She feels so vulnerable. What has that girl done to her?

"Lightning? May I come in?" Vanille knocks at her door.

"Yeah, go ahead." Lightning shakes away from her thoughts and responds quickly.

The door opens and Vanille pokes her head out timidly. "Good morning. You're… not going to work?"

Lightning shrugs. "Felt like being lazy today," it is a blatant excuse, and she knows Vanille knows that, but it sounds much better than  _I don't think I'm fit for work with the state I'm in._

But Vanille has no intention in arguing. She chuckles softly and shakes her head. "You could've said something along the lines of wanting to skip work so that you can go on a date with me. Then it probably wouldn't sound as unnatural. I would actually find that kind of sweet, to be honest."

 _Shit, she's right,_ Lightning's mind says. That's actually a clever excuse. Low-key but at the same time very,  _very_ thoughtful. "Okay. Go on a date with me."

"Hm?" Vanille looks up.

Lightning blinks.  _Wait,_ did she really just ask that? Where did her sense of filtering go? Which part of her brain short-circuited this time?!

"N-now?"

Her jaw hangs loose for a moment.  _Oh god._ Some of her nerves must have fried up because of last night. Because she can't find the will to  _stop_ —"Yes, now. Today."  _Hold on hold on—STOP IT, Lightning! What are you doing?!_ "Let's get you a nice dress for that wedding while we're at it."

It's Vanille's turn to blink. Rather rapidly. She struggles to find the words as she looks at everything in the room other than the pinkette in front of her. "But I… I don't…"

Lightning takes hold of her wrist, gripping it firmly. When she catches Vanille's attention, her expression softens. "I'd like to see you in a dress."  _Alright, okay. She's a lost cause._ At this, Lightning abandons all inhibition. She shoves the thoughts away, because somehow, for the first time, she finds that her own words are giving her confidence. This has never happened before. Lightning feels as though she is on a streak or something. And while she still has the fire in her, she presses on, "So, how about it?"

This time, Vanille's cheeks redden.

Damn, is she staring too hard at the girl?

"Um, I-I…"

 _No,_ Lightning, decides. She's not staring too hard—she's  _smiling_ too hard. A bit too genuinely. And what effects does she create on people when she smiles?

Vanille turns her head a little. Looking like she wants to hide her blush. Not that it's needed; Lightning's already seen her adorableness in its full glory. When Vanille raises her head again, she, too, is grinning hard. "Okay," she nods. "Take me out with you."

.  
.

There are many reasons Lightning is so attracted to Vanille. For one, well,  _quite obviously,_ the girl is really fucking pretty. That's the whole reason she's here in the first place. Seriously, would one find  _Lightning Farron_ hanging out at a mall on a typical day? Hell no. It's either the gym or the nightclub (depending on the time of the day). Anyway, the point is—

"Miss? How are you doing in there?"

She looks up and, trying to act as naturally as possible, keeps her legs crossed over the other. One of the workers is speaking to Vanille.

"I'm fine, thank you!" Came her voice from behind the curtain.

"Okay, give us a shout if you need anything," the lady responds.

Lightning just watches the exchange and tries her hardest not to seem like she desperately wants to see how Vanille looks right now. And yes, she means with or without the dress. But, honestly,  _yeah._ Lightning really means the latter. The patrons at the NORA bar have seen more of Vanille than she herself has—so how is it fair that Lightning still has to hold herself back? Perhaps she should make Vanille wear less at home? She has every right to do so. Like, they  _are_ together. What's wrong with wanting to see more of your girlfriend? She's not asking for much. Just a better view.

"Lightning?" Vanille peeks her head out from the stall.

She sits up straight. "What is it?"

"I, um. I think I need help with the zipper," Vanille says quietly, like she doesn't want anyone else to hear.

Which is understandable.

Lightning gives her a soft smile and makes her way to the stall. She slips through the curtains. There isn't much space in the tiny box, but even though she can't get a complete view of the thin-strap, ombre pink-white sundress she's chosen, Lightning can't shake the tingling in her chest. She pretends that she's not completely distracted by how pretty Vanille looks, clears her throat, and starts, "What do you need help with?"

But Vanille sees and knows. After all, there is a mirror in front of them. So, she turns towards it completely and the two meet eyes through their reflection. "The zipper," she says, "it's stuck."

Lightning, on instinct, hesitates a little before shifting her eyes down. But once she does, that inevitable sting just pricks at her heart. Her hands are stubbornly heavy as she tries to reach for the zipper at the small of the girl's back. Her mind screams at her to focus on the tiny piece of metal, but her stupid,  _stupid_ eyes are wandering on Vanille's back. Her blood runs cold. The sight of the girl's marred skin makes her mouth dry and… and just…

"It's not really pleasant to look at, is it?" Vanille tries to joke with a hesitant smile.

Lightning raises her head and Vanille is no longer looking at her in the mirror. Her eyes are lowered—like she's ashamed, and she has her arms crossed.

Flexing her jaw, she yanks the zipper upwards, slowly, covering the exposed scars from sight and when she's done, she stands closer. "Doesn't matter," Lightning leans in to plant a kiss on the girl's bare shoulder.

Vanille flushes almost instantaneously. Even her neck turns red. She hugs herself tightly and scrunches her shoulders all the way up to her ears.

And this makes Lightning think that she's the cutest thing in the world. Unbearably adorable. She then reaches for the curtain, clinging onto it loosely, and pulls it aside, "But I think you need to realize how nice you are to look at  _overall_."

"…!"

Admittedly, Lightning is being a bit too dramatic. So of course Vanille would gasp like that. The abrupt drawing of the curtains created such a noise that most of the people queuing in the change room turn to Vanille's stall. Said girl is so alarmed by the sudden attention she's gained in the span of a millisecond that she just squeaks and tries to hide behind the curtain. But Lightning chuckles and pulls her out.

"How are you going to get a proper look at the dress if you hide? Here, come," and she takes Vanille by the hand, dragging her to the larger mirror in the hallway of the stalls. Unbeknownst to—well, anyone, really—Lightning actually likes to play dress-up. Which is why she feels an unexplainable rush of desire to spurt out suggestions so casually, "Looks good. Some heels would make it even nicer, though."

"H-heels?" Vanille stutters.

It is quite weird to hear such a feminine word from Lightning. And she gets this a lot. "Yeah, I mean. You have nice legs."

Vanille lets out another squeak in response.

_Ah, so cute._

"You do," she says. There's no ill intention. Lightning is strictly saying this as a form of compliment. Vanille needs to realize how pretty she really is, god damn it. And it'd be a hell of a waste if she doesn't doll this redhead up.

Because despite appearing as the boring soldier she's known to be, Lightning's actually quite the fashionista. Not to brag, but if she were to use social media, she'd probably have a few million followers. After all, she's worked as a part-time model for a  _certain high-end_  brand back in high school. And,  _oh_ , how it made so many of the girls back then jealous. That's how her reputation started building up, by the way. Since her teen years. But that's a story for another time.

Vanille starts fiddling with her fingers. "I… I'm…"

"Oh my goodness!"

That same worker comes back with her jaw dropped. Lightning knows that the lady's job is to suck up to her customers, but this reaction is quite genuine. Then again, who wouldn't react like this? Vanille is _—_

"You're gorgeous! I've never seen anyone wear this dress better than you, miss!"

Lightning nods in approval. At the corner of her eyes, she sees the other customers ogling at Vanille. And it's making her feel… strangely  _happy_?

"It'd be a crime to not get this. And I'm not saying this just to get commission—I'm being serious."

Vanille's flush gets impossibly deeper.

Lightning's smirk becomes more prominent. There's this inexplicable, undeniably sense of pride that's overwhelming her. Like she's glad that these strangers are acknowledging Vanille's beauty. Which is weird. Because usually, she'd want to keep the best to herself. It's the first time in her life that she wants to show off what she owns. Is this an improvement? Is she becoming a better person? She certainly feels like one.

"S-so you like it, Lightning?"

At the call of her name, her eyes light up. "It's up to you," she says. "Do you like it?"

Vanille swallows the lump down her throat and takes another look at herself in the mirror. She waves the dress around a bit, spinning around to get a full view.

The way she moves—the way the silky material of the dress just flares up makes Lightning gawk. It only reaches her thighs, so if she moves a bit too much…  _well,_ Lightning just hopes that there won't be any perverts at the reception. Because if  _she_ can't keep her eyes off the girl, then.  _Yeah, good luck._

"Are you sure this is okay?" Vanille asks again, still contemplating (not knowing how  _perfect_ she looks).

Lightning wishes the worker would, perhaps,  _do her job_ —say something that would just sell the dress, but it seems the lady is equally as mesmerized as she is. Jeez, when did Lightning start working in retail? "Y-you…"  _still,_ she clears her throat and tries, "You choose any dress that's better than this one, you're going to steal the spotlight from the bride."

The girl narrows her eyes suspiciously at Lightning, like she doesn't believe those words.

But Lightning can only react by looking away. Because she knows for a fact that if they maintained eye contact, her head would explode.  _God,_ she's just blushing too damn much.

.  
.

"Then, what will you be wearing?" Vanille asks as she takes another scoop out of the chocolate parfait the two are sharing. She's somehow convinced the stoic soldier to stop by at a very appealing ice cream store inside the mall.

She shrugs, "Doesn't really matter."

Vanille looks at her suspiciously, and even though the tip of the spoon is still in her mouth, Lightning can tell that the girl is pouting. And she finds it amusing that Vanille is concerned about such a trivial matter.

"You're not going to just… go in your uniform, are you?"

So, she decides to play along. "I mean," she shrugs again, "There isn't a theme. I actually don't really know the guy. So I don't think it'd matter what I wear."

"But Lightning," Vanille cuts in, sounding somewhat disappointed, "I want to see you in a dress. I think you'd look stunning in one!"

_Oh, Vanille. Little do you know._

She smirks. "Do I strike you as a dress _-_ kind of person?"

"You don't, which is exactly why I want you to wear one," the girl explains.

"Mm," Lightning just smiles. She scoops herself a bit of the ice cream. "I'll think about it." And Just when she's about to stick the spoon in her mouth, she's stopped by Vanille. The girl has grabbed onto her wrist, and before the soldier can do anything about it, Vanille twists Lightning's hand around so that she can steal the bite from her spoon.

There, uh, isn't anything to say. Lightning's mouth parts a little and she stares at Vanille, wordless, confused.

And then Vanille— _the nerve of her—_ slides the parfait closer to herself and huffs in mock-anger, "You're not getting any of this until you promise me that you're going to wear a dress."

 _Wait._ Is this really happening right now? Lightning tilts her head to the side, her jaw hangs a bit looser, and a brow has risen up almost to her headline. "Huh?"

"You heard me," she says in that usual, non-menacing voice of hers, "No ice cream unless you wear a dress."

She takes a moment to comprehend the situation. Then, very naturally, a smile spreads across Lightning's cheeks.  _Damn,_ she's smiled too much today. It hasn't happened for such a long time. But she can't help it. This girl's optimism is infectious. Lightning breathes out in amusement and crosses her arms. "Just wondering—is this your idea of a threat?"

"Mhmm," she nods. By now, she's already half-way done with the dessert. Not that Lightning minds. In fact, she would want Vanille to eat more. She still remembers running her fingers along that ribcage. How her bones just protrude out of her flesh because she barely has any. Just thinking about how she almost  _went on_ with what she wanted that night sickens her.

But Lightning pushes those thoughts aside as there is something much,  _much_ more urgent at hand. "You know," she begins, "I actually like wearing dresses."

Vanille freezes in surprise. ( _Ugh._ So adorable.) Doe-eyed and all.

The soldier, to her credit, just chuckles.

"Lightning!" Vanille squeaks, "You could've told me earlier! I ate so much of this!"

And Lightning continues to laugh. Doesn't seem like she can stop, any time soon.

.  
.


	8. properly

"How are you holding up?"

Lightning looks up from her glass. Rest assured, it's just water. No one's getting drunk for a while—as much as she wants to. "Like King Regis."

Lebreau turns to her. Lightning doesn't need to look to know that the barmaid's got her eyebrows risen to her headline. "Isn't the guy, like… dying?"

"Yes."

A scoff. "Well, that's good to know."

Lightning looks into the blurred reflection of herself in her glass. She's not sure why she's doing it, but. It's just. Relaxing? She's not sure.

"No, but seriously,"

_Oh boy. Never mind._

"How are you holding up?"

She doesn't intend to sigh. But she ends up breathing out so loudly that it sounds like she does. "I don't know."

The barmaid frowns. "Look, Light. I'm not asking you only because I'm worried about your tendencies. I'm asking because I'm worried what you'll do to Vanille."

"I haven't—"

_A stabbing pain_

"—ugh…" she slaps a palm over her eyes, wincing in discomfort. She gives herself a moment. It seems like Lebreau is giving it to her as well, because all she hears is the faint noise of Yuj saying goodbye to some customers and… water? Lightning peeks through the cracks of her fingers and sees Lebreau refilling her cup. Sighing, she grabs the cup. "Thanks."

"Uh oh, you're thanking me," Lebreau says sarcastically, "Something must be wrong. You must have done something unforgivable."

Lightning remains motionless but her eyes shoot up to glare. Her threatening gaze doesn't last long, however, as she focuses back onto the reflection in her glass. "Honestly speaking. Do…" she begins, unsure why she is even bothering to talk, but pushes on anyway. "Do you think she's safe with me?"

The barmaid just gawks.  _Wow._ Lightning showing doubt. This is something you don't see every day. But it's also kind of scary that she'd do something like this.  _Really,_ something must be wrong. "You haven't actually hurt her, have you?"

Head still lowered, Lightning grips tightly onto the glass.

"Lebreau!"

She turns to the cheerful voice. It's Vanille, coming back in from the patio. "The last of the customers from the patio just left. They gave us a huge tip!"

The barmaid laughs. "No, they gave  _you_ a huge tip. Seriously, Vanille. Business has been getting so good since you've joined the party."

"No kidding," Maqui, at the other end of the counter, joins in the conversation as he wipes down some glasses. "Back then I could've at least gotten some down-time, but now, I'm always struggling to mix drinks!"

"Ooh, watch your words, Maqui," Gadot comes in as he takes a seat beside Lightning. "You're gonna piss Lebreau off again with all your whining."

"Ah, for once, Gadot is saying something right," Yuj, being the last one working, joins in as well, wiping his hands clean with the towel in his hands. "In any case, Lebreau is right. It's been getting so busy lately, and I really think it's because we made Vanille work at the front."

Lightning tries her utter best not to look like she's disturbed. Because remember what happened last time when Vanille got a bit too popular?  _Anyone?!_ She certainly does. She raises her head a little, glancing at the redhead at the corner of her eyes. But the poor girl is ever so unsuspecting. She's just looking humble and shy as they shower her with praises.

"Oh, stop it, you guys. I really don't do anything but add trouble…" Vanille says quietly.

The gang can immediately sense the uneasiness in her voice, and luckily, every one of them is quick to react.

"Well, if you mean by adding a 15% increase to our tips since you started working here, then please, by all means," Yuj says playfully, "Continue adding trouble."

"Ah, you've been keeping track?" Lebreau crosses her arms, looking somewhat proud.

"Of course! I've calculated; I can actually pay my landlord on time this month!"

"That's right," Gadot jumps in, "Things are gonna get busier from here. The fireworks are in two weeks! I was just talking to a few customers who came all the way from Ivalice!"

"Sweet, this means more tips! Do you think it's possible that we push it up to 40% this time around?"

Maqui is the next to join in, grinning as he speaks, "Who cares how much? As long as it's an increase, I'd take it. I've been eyeing this new airbike!"

Just then, the room immediately goes silent. The boys (and Vanille) widen their eyes and turn their attention at Lebreau, who then starts, "Wait, you're buying an airbike?!"

Gadot covers his mouth with a fist, "Oooooh… somebody's in trouble…" he's clearly finding this to be amusing.

"I told you not to get so hyped about it, man…" Yuj shakes his head in pity.

Lebreau ignores the boys and places her hands on her hips. "Well?!" she demands.

"N-no! I'm not! I said I'm just eyeing it! I'm not actually going to buy it yet!"

" _Yet_?!"

"Oh shit—"

"Hey, come back!"

And Lightning just watches with an arched brow as Lebreau actually jumps over the counter (and, in turn,  _her_ ) to chase after the blonde boy. The two then proceed to run around the empty bar. It's a good thing that it's closing time and all the customers have left, otherwise they'd have to watch this madness. This is apparently entertaining, because the boys are laughing so much, they're holding onto their stomach. Vanille, too, is giggling  _so_ adorably. And Lightning, as per usual, would not have moved a single muscle on her face from this nonsense, but right now, she finds herself smiling. Smiling because a certain  _someone's_ smile is contagious.

It's unclear. Oddly mysterious. And it's so cliched or  _been-there-done-that_ , but just. Every time she looks at Vanille when she is showing happiness, Lightning can't help it. The nonexistent pressure in her chest is lifted off and she can breathe. It feels strange at first—she can't really get used to being so  _weightless_ , but once she adapts, she can't get enough of it.

And so Lightning finds herself entranced by the girl. She doesn't know when it is that Vanille has stopped giggling and is looking directly at her. The two are just locked in this tender moment where they're just communicating silently through their eyes alone. Kind of like that time when Lightning waited for her at the train station. Like that  _very moment_ when they laid eyes on each other. It's an inexplicable sensation. Thrilling, but undeniably foreign at the same time.

So it actually isn't all that surprising when she feels her heart pounding. She can literally hear the beating in her ears. Everything is in slow motion. Other noises are cancelled, muffled. The faint scent of alcohol, the ambience of the lighting, the boys in the background, Lebreau chasing Maqui—whatever. Everything else is insignificant. Lightning's extends her arms, reaching out to Vanille, beckoning her to come close.

In turn, a pinkish hue graces Vanille's beautiful features. The happiness is amplified when those emerald eyes just light up. A hint of shyness. And then the girl takes her hand, prompting Lightning to pull her in, gently. They don't break eye contact because if they did, it feels like they would be sucked back into reality. So Lightning, sitting on the barstool, clings onto the smaller girl's hand with a delicate strength. Vanille's gentle eyes bask down on her own, and they're just… stuck in time. Frozen. Looking at each other.

 _Is this the moment?_  Lightning's eyes dart down to those thin, pink lips. Slightly parted, they look so inviting. Is this the moment to finally kiss her? To do it properly?

Endless questions.

The air is heavy and Lightning can't seem to catch her breath. Is she panting? Is she looking a bit too desperate? Does Vanille  _want to?_

Their hands are joined. Eyes still locked. It's almost as though a million things are going through Vanille's mind, but Lightning can read at least one thing—

" _Yes._ "

She's not sure if Vanille said it out loud, or it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

What she does know is that Vanille has reached up to touch her cheek. She takes another step closer. Their faces are an inch apart.  _God,_ just the slightest movement would make this be.

Lightning doesn't want to push her. Not anymore. She doesn't have the right. She's not good enough. She can't fuck up anymore. Her eyelids shut her from the world and waits for the moment. She  _prays_ for it.

And when darkness overwhelms her, the smell of Vanille's perfume strikes her senses much more prominently. It's so calming. The warmth radiating from Vanille's skin, which she knows is now a hair-width away, brushes her own. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

And then it happens.

Lightning feels Vanille's lips— _on her own._ Fully, completely. Much like the other day when she was going through her episode, it's so soft, so gentle, so warm. But this is more than that. This isn't just a peck. It's… it's an actual kiss. From Vanille. Upon realization, Lightning parts her lips to gasp. She can hardly catch her breath when Vanille leans in, closer. It's so intimate, so,  _so_ comforting. But it's also frightening. To think that this is actually happening—does she deserve this?  _How could she?_ Lightning holds onto the edge of the stool she's sitting on. Her other hand, still joined with Vanille's, seems to be acting on its own accord as her fingers intertwine with the girl's.

Vanille seems to understand Lightning's hesitance, and so she captures her lower lip fully. The girl tilts her head to the side, guiding the pinkette, who then follows suit—cautiously. It's like she doesn't know how to kiss (it  _is_ because she doesn't know how to kiss). She follows Vanille's motions. Lets the girl guide her. Doesn't push, doesn't force. But it feels right. Even if Vanille is simply caressing her with her lips alone. Everything is so pure and filled with this unadulterated innocence Lightning has never once imagined she would experience.

It's so…  _so—_

"Can you two, like…"

Lightning thinks she's made a noise that sounded like a scared hamster— _she doesn't know—_ upon hearing Lebreau's voice. She pulls away in an instant, turning back to her glass of water on the counter.

"… not PDA in my bar?"

A low growl. "Ugh, Lebreau! Why'd you stop them?! That was so  _fucking_ hot!"

"Look, if you want to watch girl-on-girl porno, do it on your private time. I want to close and go home and sleep!"

"Yeah, but," Yuj's voice is masked with… what is it, annoyance? Disappointment? "It was so good."

"Mhmm." Even Maqui?!

"Can you guys do it again?"

This time, Lightning hears Vanille squeak.  _Oh man._ Poor girl must be feeling equally as embarrassed as she is. And god  _forbid_ those guys from seeing her right now. Her neck and cheeks and ears are burning. What's worse, is that she is  _just_ realizing that she and Vanille were basically on a stage. The four audience members were watching, front row, observing how passive she was at…  _well,_ something that she was supposedly good at. Fuck, she even feels lightheaded. Like she's going to pass out.

"Oh, we're only joking!"

Lightning chokes when she feels a strong hand patting her back.  _Damn it, Gadot._ She doesn't even have it in her to retaliate.

"Seriously though," the bouncer now has his attention on Vanille with his arm over the girl's shoulder. "You guys must be  _really_ active at home, am I right?"

Vanille lowers her head. At the corner of Lightning's eyes, she sees that the girl's face is redder than her hair. "W-we…"  _oh god,_ she can still speak?! Somebody hand it to her. "We haven't… t-that was technically… o-our first kiss…"

It isn't. Lightning recalls the time she kissed Vanille out on the beach. The time she basically forced herself on the girl back at home. And the other night when Vanille was just dragging her lips along her skin.

But at the same time, she understands.

Because this is the first time it felt so real. That day when the two discussed that they would kiss each other when they were mutually ready. Well—Lightning turns her head a little towards Vanille—it certainly felt mutual. Which is why the aforementioned warmth and weightlessness is still dancing in her chest.

"I mean, I sure am glad that your relationship is developing," Lebreau cuts in. She slaps Gadot's arm off Vanille's shoulder. "But I really am tired as hell. So let's all wrap up so that Light can get more kissing lessons from Vanille at home, alright?"

Vanille breaks into a giggle at that, while the boys just turn away awkwardly, hiding their chuckles.

Confused, Lightning glares at Lebreau.

And the barmaid, in response, shrugs her shoulders. "I mean, you obviously are a bad kisser is what I mean."

The chuckles become louder.

…  _fuck._ Somebody kill her.

.  
.

 

"For the record, I don't think I'm good at kissing either."

Lightning rolls her eyes. She focuses all her attention on her boots, throwing them off like a child throwing a tantrum. Man, she's never felt so humiliated. She's freaking Lightning Farron! She's known to be good at  _that stuff._ Yet, here she is, being called out for being a bad kisser. The most basic of all the  _stuff_ that she does. Where is the logic?!  _Ugh,_ you know what's more frustrating? To get angry at such a trivial thing. She's beyond this. When did her ego get reduced to that of a schoolgirl's?  _God damn—_

"Lightning,"

She looks up, thin brows still furrowed.

Vanille, standing directly in front of her, greets her with the most brilliant smile, and although it is currently three in the morning, Lightning thinks she's looking at the sun. Then, the girl spreads her arms.

At that, Lightning just blinks. She eyes Vanille suspiciously, which is superfluous because the girl never has any ill intentions in… well,  _anything_ that she does. But her hesitance makes Vanille react. She steps closer towards the soldier, arms still spread, making her intention much more obvious.

She doesn't mean to be so rude, but it's in her to be an asshole. "What." Lightning demands.

But Vanille retains her smile. "Oh, you know very well  _what,_ " the corner of her lips arch slightly higher. She is now grinning. "I want a hug."

"No." she says stubbornly.

Vanille giggles.  _Oh, what a rich sound that is._ "Please?"

Lightning looks away, crossing her arms. She's technically not saying no, but it isn't like she's saying yes either. It is quite rude of her to leave the girl hanging, so she glances at Vanille. Poor girl is just standing there, anticipating that hug with her sweet, sweet smile. Lightning rolls her eyes once more and grunts, spreading her arms as well and she is taken completely off guard when Vanille throws herself at her.

The impact is strong enough to force Lightning back a few steps until she hits the door behind her. Winded, Lightning tries to regain her composure. She stares at Vanille, wide-eyed.

And it most  _definitely_ knocks the wind out of her when Vanille tiptoes, catching her lips once again.

Lightning, to her credit, doesn't freak out. Her hands hover awkwardly over the girl's midsection—like she's unsure if she should (or rather, if she  _could_ ) reciprocate. But when Vanille's hands come to frame her face, when Vanille's lips caress her own and when Vanille tilts her head so that she can kiss her more deeply, more fully, Lightning finds herself finally resting her hands on the girl's hips. And then she feels Vanille smiling into the kiss, pulling back slightly to whisper, "You're a great kisser,"

She flushes to that.

"… But I want to be the only one who knows that."

Something strikes her. It feels like electricity. Which is ironic because her name is… well,  _y'know._ She closes her eyes and lets herself get overwhelmed with everything that is  _Vanille_. Her sounds, her smell, her touch.  _Everything._  It's crazy despite how long their lips are connected, neither one has thought to use her tongue. Well, it's crazy on Lighting's part. The soldier has no idea this side of her exists. Right now, it's just a series of nibbles and pecks and, occasionally, gentle suckles. Mostly coming from Vanille, of course. Whatever the case, Lightning is mere putty in the girl's arms. And for once in her life, she likes that she's not the one in control. It's oddly satisfying. Very relaxing.

So she doesn't actually feel too choked when Vanille pulls away. They're still maintaining eye contact, and through those half-lidded eyes, Lightning can see that the shorter girl enjoyed the moment as much as she did.

Vanille, seemingly content with Lightning's reaction, smiles again and brushes a few loose strands of pink hair behind the taller woman's ear. She leans in once more to give her one final peck on the lips. "Goodnight, Lightning," she whispers.

Lightning inhales sharply.

And then Vanille begins to move backwards, only breaking their gaze when she finally turns to walk into her room.

And Lightning is just left there, unsure if her knees would fail her if she moved.

.  
.

 

This awkwardness (mostly on her part) would continue to show on the following day when Lightning steps out of her room in the dress that she's chosen. It's nothing fancy. It's nothing too casual, either. After all, a wedding is drastically different from a night club. So, obviously she doesn't opt for anything that reveals too much. Just a simple, white, one-piece dress that reaches her knees. The silk, thick-straps hang at her shoulders, revealing her collarbones (that she's  _extremely_ proud of), and the sides of her dress are layered in a shade of lilac and— _you know what?_  It doesn't matter what she's wearing, because—

"L-Lightning…"

—when Vanille is staring at her like this, Lightning feels almost as if she's in her god damn birthday suit. And being naked isn't something she's ashamed of. In fact, she prides on it. Hell, why do you think so many people want to sleep with her? The looks, obviously, are one thing, but Lightning doesn't work out periodically for nothing. Granted, she's not bulging with muscles nor is she huge like her male co-workers, but she has definitely maintained the toned figure that she had when she started out as a model in her teenage years. Then again, this  _goddess-of-a-body_  of hers is quite natural anyway, so.

"You're…"

She clears her throat and stands straight. Well, straighter. Vanille's already in her dress and they're getting ready to head out. But. Like.

"… actually w-wearing a dress…"

The girl's reaction is making her nervous. "Erm," Lightning feels that she's been getting an unhealthy amount of nervousness lately. But she shoves the feeling aside. "Do you not like it?"

"No!"

Lightning feels her heart drop.

"N-no! I mean…!" Vanille struggles to find the words for a minute. And then she, being the cute little thing that she is, steps towards the taller woman, takes her by the wrists and looks up with unprecedented sincerity. "Oh, Lightning. What I mean to say is: no, there's no way I can't  _not_ like this," Vanille smiles sweetly as she adjusts the little white rose hairclip mounted above Lightning's ear. When she's done, she tiptoes to peck her on the cheek.

Like clockwork, Lightning just turns red. Maybe for the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours alone. She rests a palm on where Vanille's lips touched her and turns away to hide how flustered she is. But, of course, it's pointless because her actions just made Vanille giggle. "We…" she swallows the lump down her throat, "We should get going." And she walks past the shorter girl towards the entrance.

Vanille giggles and follows closely behind.

.  
.

The ceremony takes place at a church in the heart of downtown Bodhum. Pretty standard stuff. Lightning timed it precisely so that she does not have to talk to people she doesn't care about. She comes in right when everyone is asked to be seated. She's also being quite discreet, sitting all the way at the back with a bunch of random people. Oddly, instead of claustrophobia being her main concern, Lightning's more worried about Vanille being bored. She glances over occasionally to see if the girl is doing okay, but honestly, she's just all smiles. So, at least somebody is enjoying herself, at the very least.

Anyway, the transition to the reception is rather smooth. All attendees are escorted to a beach resort where round tables are neatly set up; canopies of white flowers and string fairy lights hang over the ceiling and,  _wow_ , everything is just so overly extravagant. Lightning understands that when people reach a certain age, they would want to show off how financially stable they are to their peers, but come on. Torreno needs to understand that half the people here are higher ranked than him. In fact, Lightning, being only twenty years old, makes  _about_ as much as the guy because of the dangerous missions that she has taken in the past. Y'know, sneaking around and stuff. Not a lot of people in the Bodhum Corps can do it because nobody likes to be stealth-build. But does she feel the need to flex? Certainly not.

As they make their way to their designated table (conveniently grouped with some people she's not too familiar with—perfect. So she doesn't have to make unnecessary conversation), Lightning passes by a few of her fellow squad members. Out of courtesy, she introduces Vanille to them, and while she knows that she herself is distracting as hell right now, the paranoid part of her thinks that they're staring because of her reputation. As in. They're thinking about how someone like her is unable to maintain a stable relationship. So that Vanille really is just some extra here,  _playing_  as her plus-one.

Which is  _NOT THE CASE_ , Lightning wants to shout.

But. Calm down. Maybe they're not even thinking that. She's being way too dramatic. Just, sit. Calm down, Lightning. Damn.

"Farron? Heavens, is that you?!"

 _Uh oh._ Lightning stands in an instant, alarming Vanille beside her as she turns towards the voice. "Lieutenant Amodar, sir."

"How many times do I have to tell you, soldier girl?" Amodar speaks and the sound is booming. The glass of champagne in his hand threatens to spill as he shakes with laughter. "You don't need to address me like that when we're not on duty!"

His enthusiasm makes it obvious that he has had a glass too many. And the bride and groom have yet to come out. Hell, food hasn't even been served yet. Well, if there's one thing that stands out about him (other than his massive built), it is unquestionably his loud voice. Knowing her lieutenant, the man probably  _demanded_ for drinks. Then again, this man can be quite intimidating when he wants to be. But Lightning responds to him politely, nonetheless, "I apologize. It's just so hard to shake the habit."

"Well, that I understand!" he laughs again, taking a sip—no _,_ a  _large gulp_  from his glass. Then, he directs his attention down to the redhead. "Oh?"

Vanille beams in response. She stands up as well and straightens her dress. "Hello."

"Why, hello to you, too!" Amodar extends his hand and Vanille takes it. "Lightning, who is this lovely lady?"

"She's…" Yeah, she's just established that Amodar looks intimidating on the outside, but he really is just a friendly giant. On top of this, he's well-known to be a kind, faithful, wonderful husband… so why is it that she still feels so unsafe to introduce the girl to him? "… Vanille."

Amodar just blinks. Like he's waiting for her to go on.

And of course Lightning struggles. "She's my, erm," she exhales and speaks the next words quietly, " _plus one._ "

In an instant, Amodar simultaneously bulges his eyes and drops his jaw. "OH!"

Lightning winces slightly. Not to his loud voice, but more so at the fact that nearly half the people at the reception is eyeing them at this moment. Good thing people aren't settling down yet and there's still a lot of chatter. She tries her utter best to look small.

"Honestly!" the man breaks into another fit of laughter. "You could've told me sooner that were already seeing someone! And aren't you a pretty one?"

"Thank you." Vanille continues to smile. "Lightning doesn't tell me much about her work, but I'm very sure it is a pleasure for her to serve under you."

"Ah, a polite one as well! Farron, you have good taste!"

Lightning just shifts awkwardly. Why does this seem like one of those meet-the-parents situations?

Amodar takes another gulp from his glass before continuing, "I gotta tell you, little miss. I was so concerned for our soldier girl, here. All this time I've been wondering—how can the prettiest member of the Bodhum division be single? It just didn't sit right." He turns to Lightning, "You're our poster child after all, soldier!"

"Poster child?" Vanille perks her head up. "You never told me that."

Lightning gulps. "I'm not…"

"C'mon, don't be so modest. Everyone here has, at one point, looked at you. I mean,  _look at you_!" Amodar gestures at her…  _well_ , her entire body. "Specimen."

Truth be told, Lightning is a bit of a show off at times. And don't get her wrong, she really likes attention when it's necessary, but this really is. Um.  _She feels herself getting impossibly redder._ Too much. Like, yeah.

"Alright, alright," the man pats Lightning on the back, and the latter almost falls over when he does that.  _God_ , this always happens. "I'll stop teasing. It's so amusing to see our tough soldier girl all flustered!"

Lightning thinks a vein has popped in her forehead.

"Let's just have a toast before I leave you two be, yeah? Who knows what kind of nonsense I'd be spurting the next time you see me tonight? Excuse me, waiter!"

As if on cue, one of servers walking around with a tray of champagne comes by. Amodar quickly finishes his glass, places it unceremoniously on the tray, and proceeds to take three more from it, handing one to both Lightning and Vanille while keeping one to himself.

"Okay, ladies!" he raises his glass, never losing that friendly grin on his face. "Here's to the bride and groom! May they live happily ever after!"

Vanille is the first to laugh to his speech.

Even Lightning can't help but to drop her guard around him when he smiles like that. She breathes out a sound of amusement, shaking her head. "Sir, I believe it's more appropriate to save this toast for the  _actual_  bride and groom."

"Egh, apples and oranges," the man rolls his eyes. "I'll be attending your wedding soon enough, so it doesn't matter. Cheers!"

Typically, Lightning would find herself blushing to a statement like that, but right now, she isn't given enough time to react. On instinct, she glances at Vanille and, seeing that the girl is just going along with the situation since Amodar is  _very clearly_ drunk, just shrugs to herself. The trio raise their glass and while the two girls sip at their drink cautiously, the man just downs the whole thing.

"Damn, this is good champagne! Torreno sure knows his stuff!" he nods approvingly at his emptied glass. "Alright, ladies. Let's have another round after? I gotta greet the rest of the squad before I pass out. Who knows what kinda gossip they'd spread about their lieutenant? That I'm a lightweight? No— _no_  way, not letting that happen."

Lightning straight up chuckles this time. "Alright, sir. Watch yourself out there."

"You bet I will, soldier," he says as he struggles to place his glass down on the table. Like he nearly misses the table and the glass almost dropped to the floor, but thankfully that doesn't happen. Amodar turns to Vanille and grins at her. "Take care of her, will you? Our girl here is tough as a behemoth on the surface, but I'm sure if you break her, she'll be softer than a Tonberry!"

Lightning tilts her head.  _Huh?_

"I believe Tonberries are tough as well, but at least they're cute." Vanille giggles at the highly-suspicious accusation. Because  _what the hell_ is a Tonberry?

"Exactly my point," he winks. And then he's off. To the table adjacent from theirs and he's already demanding his next victims to drink with him. What a guy.

This shouldn't actually bother Lightning, but it's not often that she's left out of a conversation. So, as she and Vanille sit, she quickly questions, "What were you guys talking about?"

"Hmm?" Vanille blinks, taking a sip of her champagne.

"Like," Lightning tries to articulate, "the Tonberry thing. What was that?"

The redhead blinks again, her eyelashes batting quickly. "You don't know what a Tonberry is?"

She just shakes her head.

"Oh, Lightning, they're the cutest things on Pulse!" she explains with enthusiasm. "Cute, but extremely deadly. They're these little green-skinned, yellow-eyed creatures that have fish tails. I think they also wear this brown cloak? I'm not too sure. Oh, they hold onto a lantern with one hand, and they attack with a kitchen knife."

Hearing that, Lightning has to look away for a second. What she's imagining right now is anything  _but_ cute. She turns to the girl again and begins to defend herself. "Okay, first of all. Blazefire Saber isn't anything  _close_ to a kitchen knife."

Vanille rests her elbow on the table, supporting her chin with the back of her hand as she observes Lightning intently. "Oh?"

"My skin isn't green; my eyes aren't yellow, and I don't wear cloaks,"

The girl nods. "Mmm, is that so?"

 _This girl's mocking her!_ Lightning fights the urge to pout, but she does do it for a second and she catches Vanille stifling a laughter. "And I'm not a fish."

"I dunno…" Vanille rolls her eyes, "You can be quite fishy at times…"

"Wha—" she scoffs, acting on instinct as she reaches for Vanille's sides. Lightning doesn't even know if the girl is ticklish, but judging by her reaction—

"L-Light… Lightning! I mean you're a cute fish!" the girl laughs, trying her best to avoid those fingers. She attempts to catch Lightning's wrists to stop her, but clearly, she is no match for the soldier. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Are you really, though?" Lightning holds back on her strength but isn't entirely backing down. She's just letting Vanille grip onto her hands but is making it obvious that she can break free if she really wants to.

"Well, no. Not really, but," Vanille places a palm on Lightning's cheek, rubbing the woman's soft skin with her thumb. "I do think that it is an understatement to say that you're just cute."

If Vanille isn't perfect already, add this to the list: she has the ultimate way with words. Lightning has never felt this flattered in her life. It's the way of delivery, maybe? Her way of execution? How it just comes out so smoothly and at such an appropriate moment. So, in turn, Lightning just sighs. Showing PDA at NORA is one thing when they're surrounded by people they know, but here, Lightning doesn't care. She doesn't have the capacity to care.

So she smirks.

And Vanille reacts almost immediately to this. She leans in so their lips touch. This time, Lightning feels confident enough to reciprocate. She parts her lips a little and mimics Vanille, nibbling at the girl's upper lip Vanille caresses her lower lip.

It feels nice, Lightning decides as she pulls back. The same, beautiful shade of pink is dusted across the girl's cheeks, and she's pretty sure she looks about the same right now, but she doesn't dwell too much on it. The two smile to themselves as they look away, both secretly savouring the tender moment that they just shared. Lightning has to clench her fists to resist moving a hand up to touch her lips, because that would just show how  _girly_ and  _unbadass_ and  _lovestruck_ she is.

But then at the corner of her eyes, she can see Vanille touching her lips. Which makes Lightning's smile widen—but, nope— _no_ , Lightning. Suppress that. Focus on something, anything else. She grabs her glass and takes a small sip while glancing around the resort. The people are about all settled in, and it doesn't seem like anybody has paid attention to their PDA just now, so there's that. She places her drink back down and decides to check on Vanille again, expecting her to still be flustered and all.

Only, she isn't.

Vanille is staring across the table. Lightning follows her gaze, curious to see what the girl is so interested in and she finds a dark-skinned man with an afro, approaching them. He has this solemn look on his face and it's unsettling. Not in the sense that it makes Lightning feel that way, but in a way that's…  _hm,_ showing that  _he's_ anxious? Something like that. She doesn't really know.

The man stops right beside Vanille. He looks like he's hesitating to speak, and it thoroughly confuses Lightning, but because she can't actually see Vanille's facial expression as the girl's back is on her, Lightning can only watch.

"Been a while," the man starts, "… Vanille."

The first thing Lightning notices is that Vanille visibly stiffens. She's tensed, sitting far too upright. A stagnating moment locks them in a bubble, and Lightning does not think one can feel so uneasy at a wedding of all places. Just as she's about to intervene, she hears the girl take a  _shaky_  deep breath, and then—

"Hello again, Sazh."

.  
.

 


	9. whim

Why does she have to be so nosy?

Like. Vanille can do whatever she wants. Honestly, who is Lightning to control her? What right does she have to stop Vanille from having a private conversation with… what's his name, Sazh? Those two are good friends, obviously. And it's probably been a long time since they've seen each other. Lightning shouldn't butt in. Stop being so selfish.

Let them catch up. Have their private them.

… is what her mind is screaming at her to do, yet why is she standing in the distance, watching those two talk, alone on the beach?

Okay, fine. They're not completely alone down there. After the bride and groom gave their speeches and made their toast and stuff, the guests started to do their own thing. Some went to the open bar (which Lightning is  _extremely_ interested in), some have moved over to other tables to speak with their friends, some have gotten up to dance, some have gone down to the beach to look at the evening sky or whatever. Which is  _totally not_ what Vanille is doing with that man, by the way. It's really frustrating, because Lightning actually had this elaborate plan to ask Vanille for a dance. Maybe she can say something cheesy like,  _may I have this dance?_ And then afterwards,  _they_  can be the ones to go down to the beach, walk around like those people there right now.  _Maybe_ they can hold hands? Y'know, the typical stuff.

It suddenly comes to Lightning that the plan isn't really that elaborate. Doesn't matter. The point is.

She directs her attention to Vanille and that man on the beach, blended in with the scattered crowd. Several children are running around, couples are  _indeed_ holding hands, and some friends are sitting on the sand, wine glasses in their hands.

_Ugh._ Lightning rolls her eyes. Whatever. Save her the trouble of acting romantic.

She returns to the resort. Perhaps get a few more drinks into her system. She really didn't think coming to a wedding would give her this much stress. Well, at least she has that open bar. Lightning finds it easily, of course. It's in the dead centre with that tower of champagne glasses beside the wedding cake. Lightning herself  _adores_ sweet things, so it isn't surprising to feel more attracted to the cake than the alcohol.

But. It hasn't been cut yet, so she'll just opt for the champagne.

"Careful now, don't get so excited that you'd push the whole thing over," a male says.

Lightning raises her head in genuine surprise. A man with shoulder-length, dishevelled chestnut-brown hair is standing right there, smirking at her. His light stubble is equally as distracting as his messy dinner suit. It's like the guy isn't even trying.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Lightning deadpans.

The man chuckles to her tone, as if he's used to it. "Glad to see you too, Light. Here, let me help you with that," he reaches for the tallest glass and hands it over to her.

She takes it and watches as he grabs another one for himself.

"So," he turns his attention to her. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Only two and a half years," Lightning says bluntly.

"It's been _that_ long? Jeez," he drops his jaw, posture dramatic, "I still remember high school like it was yesterday."

She rolls her eyes. "Not surprising. It appears you still act like a teenager, Rygdea."

"Aw, you  _do_  remember my name!" He swings an arm over her shoulder. "So, how 'bout it? Are you finally willing to accept my promposal?"

Lightning ignores his over-the-top flirtatious behaviour and brings the glass to her lips. The guy doesn't mean any harm; he's always been a class-clown. "I'm pretty sure I've rejected you at least seven times in the past."

"Yes, at least twice a year. Thanks for the reminder, Light." Rygdea mocks exasperation. And then, almost as if a lightbulb went off above his head, his eyes spark. "Wait, what if I asked you properly?" He gulps down all of his drink and places it aside before taking a step back. "Something like… how do they do it? Er, may I have this dance, Miss Farron?" Rygdea bows—an arm folded behind him and one extended, anticipating Lightning to reciprocate.

She just rolls her eyes, obviously. Lightning actually considers walking away without saying anything, but.  _Sigh._ She glances at the exit—the one that leads down to the beach. Well, since Vanille is still occupied, there is no excuse to say no to an old friend. And even though she wanted to save her first dance for Vanille…  _well._ It doesn't matter anymore. Rygdea isn't a bad guy. He's never rubbed her the wrong way, either. He was just a bit annoying sometimes. He always knew to stop when he went too far, though. So, she downs her drink as well and places it on the table. "Alright," she takes his hand.

Rygdea's face lights up. He grins and they make their way towards the dance floor. Exaggerated decorations and venue aside, Lightning has got to point out that Torreno is just pretentious at this point. An entire band playing classical music in the background? They're not half bad, too. Did he spend three years' worth of pay on the wedding?

"Ah-hem."

She looks up.

"We're supposed to be having a romantic moment here, Light. Stop daydreaming." Just as he finishes, he places his hand on her waist and pulls her close.

Lightning huffs, somewhat regretting that she's said yes to this, but seeing how she's anything but amused by the party, she would do literally anything to pass the time. In turn, she places her hand on his shoulder, and they begin swaying to the music.

There are only a handful of people on the dance floor, and most of them are, um. Old people. It's no wonder. The young couples are down on the beach, where it's way less stuffy (read: more romantic).

Lightning grunts. She tries to shove the frustrating thoughts down her throat.

"You seem bothered," Rygdea comments as moves back to spin her in a graceful turn.

Lightning reacts easily to it, whirling around as the fabric of her dress compliments her elegant movements. Just as easily, she ignores his comment.

But she forgets that Rygdea is very persistent. Seriously, who asks the same person out on a date after getting rejected seven times?

"Does it have something to do with your plus-one? I saw you coming in with someone. A redhead, was it? Where is she, by the way?"

At this, Lightning straight up glares. Deep, azure eyes pierce into Rygdea's blue ones and the latter visibly shirks.

"Hey, hey. Calm down. That was an actual question! I'm not trying to be an asshole."

She sighs. Lightning half-heartedly follows his waltz, but it's very apparent that her mind is elsewhere. "She bumped into a friend. They're down on the beach."

"Hmm," Rygdea hums in thought. "To ditch  _the_ Lightning Farron. That girl's got balls, doesn't she?"

Lightning doesn't even bother to retort to this one. Vanille really does have balls, to be honest. This is the first time she's been stood up. In the middle of a party. If you can really call it that. Not that she's mad. No, what the hell. Is she, like, twelve? She  _shouldn't_ be mad. This is so trivial. Stop being such a child,  _Lightning._

"Anyway, enough with the depressing talk," he continues as he leads her into another spin. "How's work?"

She gives him a questioning gaze, one that screams  _isn't this even more depressing_?

Rygdea seems to have gotten the message, as he immediately breaks into a soft laughter. "I mean, wait, no. I meant to ask, any plans to move to the big city, yet? You're not gonna stay in Bodhum forever, are you?"

Lightning's face remains straight.

"Alright. I'm just saying. We need less Torreno's in PSICOM and more Farron's."

At that, her attention perks up. "Torreno was PSICOM?"

"Surprising, huh? Makes you wonder what the Sanctum was thinking, accepting an idiot like him."

Lightning stays quiet, but she nods in agreement. "You two worked together?"

Rygdea blinks. "Well… yeah. Why do you think I'm here? We used to be in the same squad, hello."

She raises a brow. Somewhat ashamed that she couldn't put two and two together. "Small world."

"Mhmm."

The music transitions into something a bit more slow-paced, and Rygdea adjusts accordingly. It wasn't like they were dancing fast to begin with, but. Whatever.

"So, would you consider it?" he suddenly starts.

"What?"

"Joining PSICOM! You wouldn't believe the stuff that we get to do!"

She feigns interest.

"Like the airbikes each of us owns… the airships we get to go on, and… oh! The Palamecia! We got to go on  _the_ Palamecia!"

"Hmm?" Lightning nods.

"And then this one time, we even got to interrogate prisoners captured on Pulse!"

Lightning blinks. "I'm pretty sure you were not supposed to tell me that one."

Almost immediately, the man's enthusiasm disappears. He nearly drops Lightning in a dip (had she not reacted with great reflexes) when he slaps a hand over his mouth. "Shit."

But Lightning just chuckles with amusement. "Yeah, I think I'm fine with the GC for now. It looks like PSICOM is filled with idiots, and I'm not quite ready to lose my sanity."

"Heh, you might be right…" Rygdea lets out an embarrassed laugh. "Help a brother out and pretend you didn't hear what I just said?"

She pretends to be in deep thought. "That depends on your behaviour."

"Hey, come on! I'm being quite chivalrous tonight, am I not?"

"If I had to compare you to high school, then I guess."

Rygdea sighs. "Always the honest one, huh, Light? Anyway," he clears his throat, evidently trying his best to change the subject, "I'm being quite serious. Pretty sure if you'd just asked, your senior would write you a recommendation letter, and you'd be in within a heartbeat."

"I'm in no rush for a promotion."

"I'm sure you're not," he nods. "Sergeant First Class at the age of twenty? Damn. Wish I had your talent. And is it true they let you use that prototype weapon?"

Lightning just thins her lips.

But that's enough of an answer. "Ugh. I'm so jealous. We're not even allowed to see it. You have got to show me that thing someday."

"Someday."

"Yep. More importantly, Light…" Rygdea dips her—this time  _properly—_ and she bends back in a perfect stance, "Where'd you learn to ballroom dance like this? You're a freaking pro."

Lightning comes back in a graceful recover, smirking. "That's how you win people over, Rygdea. You have to be good at everything."

"Easy for you to say. What was the one thing that you were bad at? Oh, wait, nothing. You're bad at literally nothing."

She shrugs. He's not wrong.

"Maybe you can teach me something some time. Play the piano, sing, or all of that. You know how the ladies dig that."

This time, Lightning can't hold back her chuckle. That sounded plain desperate just now. "Have you been single all these years?"

Blood rushes up to his cheeks—he's all pink now. "I-I mean, I've been to clubs and stuff. Went on a few dates, but… y'know. Never found the right person. Kinda got used to being alone, though."

She understands. Lightning knows what he's going through. "Yeah," she mumbles just as the music ends.

"What was that?"

Lightning smiles. "Nothing." She reaches up to place a palm on the man's stubbled cheek. "Good seeing you again, Rygdea."

The man obviously blushes to that. Like, who wouldn't? Getting a show of affection from Lightning herself is… is  _heavenly_! "H-hey, Light!"

She turns.

"I'll see you around? Maybe we can, um, grab dinner sometime while I'm still here." He scratches his cheek with a finger, like he's struggling to find the words. "A-and, uh. Send my regards to Serah for me _,_  will you? _I kinda miss her. She was always the nicer Farron—"_

…

…  _Farron…_

…  _Serah._

"… Farron.  _Lightning_!"

Lightning inhales sharply.  _Breathe._  She looks around. But she can't.  _Breathe._  Tunnel vision again. Everything is surrounded in a bright halo of white light.  _Breathe._  Her forehead feels  _sweaty—wait_ , no. It's intensifying. Her entire body is sweaty.  _No. No, god, no. Why is this happening again?_ She clasps onto her head.  _Breathe._  The vibrations of her own touch seem to send ripples through her fucking brain. Is that why her head is pounding? God. She needs to sit down.

"… here, this way…"

Whose voice is that?

"… let me get you some water…"

A glass is shoved into her hand. She quickly downs it.  _Ah._ Ice-cold. No, wait. It's hot. It's suddenly so hot. Her body is radiating this heat that threatens to melt her from the inside out.

The person rubs her back. "… feel better?"

Lightning forces her eyes open. It's still too bright. But she can make out who the figure is.

_Oh._ It's just Rygdea.  _Stop touching me._

"I'm fine." She chokes out.

"… no, you're not fine…"

Why is his voice so echo-y? Lightning rubs at her temples. "I-I'm just… a lightweight…"

"… don't shit with me, Light. You're anything  _but._ "

"I'll be fine. Just give me a second."

Lightning drowns herself in the mixture of blurred sounds in the background. The clinking of the glasses, the chatter, the muffled chords of violin strings. For a moment, she thinks she'll be okay. But then—

"Lightning!" Vanille's voice.

_No. Not now._ Lightning feels sick to her stomach. Vanille's going to see her like this again. Helpless and all. It's so pathetic. She wants to throw up.

A new pair of arms have wrapped around her just as Rygdea withdraws his.

"It's okay. Everything's okay," Vanille whispers into her ear.

As much as it pisses Lightning off, she can't deny that the girl's voice is very effective in soothing her. The pain in her lungs finally evens out and suddenly, her brain doesn't feel like jelly anymore. She surrenders herself to the comfortable warmth of Vanille's embrace and lets the pounding in her head recede. But she's not strong enough to open her eyes yet.  _No._ The light is much too blinding.

A gasp.

And then—

"Y-you're…" Rygdea's voice.

There is a pause. The air has grown thick. And although Lightning is  _fucked_ in her senses right now, she can still feel it.

Discomfort. Awkwardness. Unease.

All of it.

_Strange._ Why is Vanille gripping onto her so tightly? Her fingers are digging into her back, and… is the girl shaking?

"Rygdea." Another voice. Familiar. Lightning's heard it a little while ago. Is that—

"Officer Katzroy, sir!" Rygdea's tone changes to be much more serious than earlier.

"At ease, corporal. We're at a party."

Another pause.

"Sir…" Rygdea is speaking lowly. But Lightning can hear. Of course she can right now, with her heightened senses and everything. "… the girl. She's—"

"Just leaving."

Vanille is holding Lightning even closer now. "Sazh…?"

...

The next thing she knows, Lightning is forced to stand. "Yes," Vanille says. "We're on our way."

"Don't worry, Miss Farron, I'll let Torreno know that you're not feeling well." Sazh says.

_Wait, what?_ She's not  _not_ well! Or, just. Not  _not_ well enough to be sent home. Why is she being pushed around?!

"Come on. This way, Lightning."

"Wait! B-but… sir, she's—" Rygdea again. What is he trying to say?

The next thing Lightning knows, she's sitting in a car. A taxi, she thinks. Vanille has uttered the address to the driver, and they're on the way. All of this is happening too fast. Lightning's panicking mind needs to sober up before she can process any of this. Still, with the little ounce of clarity left in her mind, she musters it up and finally speaks up, "What was that?"

It isn't a demanding question. In fact, it's weak, given how little strength Lightning has at the moment. But it sounds aggressive nonetheless.

When she doesn't get an immediate answer, Lightning pries her eyes open. They're away from the brightness of the resort now, and only the dim streetlights on the highway peek into the car. Slowly, her vision adjusts. And when she can see clearly enough, she tries again, "Vanille?"

The girl is sitting very straight. Her hands are in her lap and she's looking out her side of the window. Like she's deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Hey…" Lightning reaches over to take her hand into her own. "Is everything—"

"Lightning," Vanille interrupts. A bit uncharacteristic of her.

But the woman maintains composure. "Yes?"

Vanille looks up, green eyes dark with…  _what is that?_  "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

_What?_

There's… there isn't any other way to respond. Her eyes have widened, her throat has gone dry, and just when she thinks she has recovered from her episode, she's pretty sure another one is hitting her right now.

"Wh… what?" she asks stupidly.

Vanille removes her seatbelt, which Lightning can see bothers the driver a little— _oh lord, he's watching them through the rear mirror_ —but that thought is cut short; Vanille's—she's…  _oh god, what is going on?!_

"Vanille, w-what are you doing…?" she asks yet another stupid question as the girl has practically straddled her waist. Vanille rests her elbows on Lightning's shoulders. Her fingers knot into the soldier's pink locks and the latter is completely entranced, stunned by her touch. Lightning thinks that she still has a hold of herself until… until— _fuck—_

"Light…" Vanille moans. Her hips are— _oh fuck—_ moving. Grinding. The heat between  _both_ their legs is building and  _shit_ , they're wearing dresses. She's already planning ahead. Stripping is going to be so easy. She's going to throw Vanille onto her bed when they get home. Pin her down. Use her teeth to tear everything away. Lightning grips onto the leather of the seat— _but not now_ —restraining herself from touching. Because on the one hand, she doesn't know if she's allowed to. On the other hand, the more selfish hand, she's scared that once and  _if_  she does, Vanille may want to stop and then… and then  _Lightning_  has to stop, and. It's so selfish and fucked up of her, but she doesn't want to stop.  _Not now._

She clenches her teeth. Screws her eyes shut. Which proves to be a stupid move. Damn, she's been doing a lot of stupid things tonight, hasn't she? Without the aid of her sight, everything else is amplified. Vanille's small mewls, her movements, her heat—grinding right at her hips—and… oh god, her  _smell._ Lightning can smell Vanille.

" _I want to taste you."_

A moan.

Lightning blinks. Under the dim light, she can see Vanille blushing. The girl is breathing heavily, shoulders heaving, chest rising and falling. And then, it hit her.

She probably said that out loud. About… wanting to taste her.

_Gulp_

Lightning's no stranger to dirty talk. Some of her past partners were totally into it. And she can't deny that it turns her on. But she can't believe that she just did it unknowingly. Like. Without even meaning to. How shameless.

To cover that up, Lightning doesn't think twice. She dives in, lips colliding with Vanille's as her fingers still struggle to decide what they want to do.  _Where_ they want to be. Vanille's are gingerly combing through her hair, pulling her in close to deepen the kiss, so why isn't she doing the same? Vanille has parted her lips, practically inviting her tongue to explore her, so why isn't she responding? And, most importantly, Vanille's hips are rolling, moving rhythmically,  _skillfully,_ yet Lightning isn't reacting.

She's just… kissing. Innocently. Lips caressing Vanille's when the girl is urging her to  _tear at her._ What the fuck.

"Please, Lightning," Vanille finally seems to be fed up with how passive Lightning is being. She reaches down to grab Lightning's hands, guiding them to rest on her waist. " _Let me make you feel good."_

A gasp. Lightning isn't sure whether it came from herself or the taxi driver. Maybe both. Shit. The guy's getting quite a view, isn't he? Two hot girls going at it in his car. Lightning wouldn't blame him if he wanted to drive slower.

She gives in, then. Lightning's hands glide upwards. To Vanille's back. She teases at the zipper. She lets the girl know how easy it would be for her to just yank the thing down. To expose her. But she doesn't. Lightning's a thirsty  _fuck,_ but subconsciously, she knows that with Vanille, things need to be taken slow. Her hands move downwards, and Lightning stops to cup Vanille's bottom. It is a  _sin_ how simultaneously firm and soft the girl feels beneath her touch. Lightning groans into Vanille's mouth as her fingers dig into the girl's skin, aiding with those scandalous rocking motions at the same time.

As her passion fills to the rim, something of an epiphany hits Lightning. Though it should've been obvious, Vanille's probably _, very likely_ a dream to fuck. But there is this— _what?—_ gripping thought gnawing at the back of her mind, so to speak. Like something is wrong. Something… not exactly missing, but something out of place.

_What could it be?_

"Your total is thirty-two twenty-five gils."

_Oh,_ the car's stopped. Lightning pulls back, fishes for her wallet in her clutch and she throws several bills at the man. She's pretty sure she overpaid, but when he responds  _enjoy your evening_ with a smirk, she can't help but to drop the thought.

She steps out of the car and basically chases after Vanille into the lobby of her apartment. Usually, Vanille would greet the old security guy with a cute  _hello,_ but not today. Ooh _,_ this is for real.

Once the elevator arrives, she pushes Vanille into the confined space—against the wall. Lightning wastes no time; she taps the stylish  _13_ button and turns her attention back to the girl.

Speaking of.

_Fuck._

Her usual pigtails are about to come undone, her lips are a bit bruised, a strap of her dress hangs loosely over her shoulder and Lightning has never seen  _perfection_ personified so well before. Vanille looks so small, so vulnerable, but so  _very_ inviting. Lightning can't help it; she dives forward, claiming those lips once more and indulges herself into the softness of Vanille's touch. Because the girl is already tugging at  _her_ zipper. She wants Lightning naked.

_Feels just like after a night out at the club_

And Lightning would gladly do anything for a night of satisfaction.

_It's been so long_

The elevator dings. Lightning's dress is about to fall apart but she cleverly lifts Vanille up, bridal style, so that the girl's embrace would keep her clothes intact. She makes her way through the empty corridor to her flat and scans her print on the lock.  _God,_ everything is so blurry. And Vanille isn't making it any easier for her.  _Fucking_ girl is trailing kisses down her throat, nipping at her tendons and  _ugh…_ she's so practiced _._

_Of course she is_

Don't. Don't say that.

Lightning pushes the door open, kicks it shut. Removes her heels, as does Vanille. Their lips refuse to part and Lightning moves swiftly into her room and throws Vanille onto the bed. She lets her dress pool at her feet, leaving herself in nothing but her undergarments. She then takes her time to remove the floral hairclip that's been keeping her hairdo up the entire night—which, thanks to Vanille's antics in the car earlier, is a lost cause by now. She pounces onto the bed, her pink hair cascading over her shoulder and, as promised, traps the girl underneath.

Holy shit.  _Holy shit._ It's hitting her now—Vanille's right here. In her bed.

This is a dream. This has to be a dream.

_Finally going to fuck Vanille_

Emerald eyes half-lidded. Mouth slightly parted. Vanille is making her salivate, and the girl isn't even naked yet. Lightning hears herself breathe. Feels her dry throat. Sees the world spin. She isn't intoxicated, but it most certainly feels like she is. Kind of comparable to when she brings home a stranger—

_Like Vanille_

What? No. Untrue. Vanille… she isn't—

"Lightning…" Vanille has looped her arms around the woman's neck, drawing her in close. And Lightning can't pull away. She's paralyzed. Not even when the girl is whispering into her ear, "… relax."

She's flipped around. Wait,  _she's_ flipped around! As in, Vanille's on top of her! Blood rushes down Lightning's spine, shooting right to her core and she can't hold back the moan.  _Shit._ This girl's a fiend. It's  _illegal_ to make Lightning feel so helpless. Once again, Vanille is straddling her at the hips. The girl lifts her own dress, making Lightning gasp when she exposes those white-laced panties. But she doesn't stop there. No—Vanille lifts the fabric up, higher— _look at that beautiful midriff—_ stopping just before Lightning can see the matching white-laced bra.

" _Fuck."_

"Easy, soldier…" Vanille purrs.

_Oh, no. Don't talk like that._

The girl lifts the hem of her dress up to her teeth, biting at it to keep it there so Lightning can get the most teasing view of her cleavage. Vanille smiles. Her movement slow, she reaches behind herself to pull the zipper down and then. At last. Throws the entire damn dress off.

Lightning bares her teeth, throws an arm over her mouth to stop herself from making any embarrassing noises. Because she can hear herself hissing. Feel herself about to  _lose it_. She clenches at the sheets of her mattress with her free hand in the same manner she did to the taxi's leather seat.

Vanille's hands move to Lightning's abdomen, feeling the flatness of her toned stomach as she begins to roll her hips again.

She can't miss any of this. As much as Lightning wants to shut her eyes and get lost in the sensations, part of her can't tear away from Vanille's intense gaze. It keeps her from turning away. And although they are looking at each other, although Lightning can usually read Vanille through those green eyes, she can't do it right now. She can't understand. She's lost.

The heat between Vanille's legs brushes her abdomen. The girl's hands continue to roam across her body. Touching her breasts. Up her shoulders. Back down to her hips. Lightning watches in silence. She considers how easy it would be to do what she said in the car. Pull Vanille up. Let the girl sit on her mouth. Rip those panties apart. Run her tongue along that glistening opening. Kiss her.

_Taste her._

But she doesn't. Lightning lies there, watches with nothing to say as Vanille just… she just moves. Empty. Soulless movements. Meaningless. Dark eyes devoid of emotion.

"V-Vanille…" Lightning tries.

The girl retracts her gentle hands, moving them up her own body, reaching behind to unclasp her bra. It hangs loosely for a second before she tosses it to the side, joining the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

Lightning can't breathe. Blood pumps faster through her veins, moving so rapidly she feels lightheaded. The first thing that registers in her mind is that Vanille's breasts are not as small as she thinks they are—in fact, they're the perfect size. Pink, perky nipples stick into the cool air and they look so  _soft to touch._ She is further robbed with words when the girl takes her hands, moving them up so they'd cup her breasts.

"Do you want this?" She whispers, voice low as she holds Lightning's hands in place.

Lightning swallows. She licks her lips with her dried tongue. Her fingers give an exquisite amount of pressure.  _Oh,_ how badly she wants to feel  _every inch_ of Vanille's body.

" _Mmn_ …" the girl moans.

But this is not right. Vanille. She doesn't… she's not supposed to be like this. She's not. This is not Vanille.

"I can make you feel good." She moves. Vanille starts rocking her hips.

No.

"Do whatever you want with my body."

Lightning's eyes widen at once.  _Not like this._  Pull away. She needs to pull away. "Stop."

But Vanille still moves.

"I said stop."

Vanille doesn't.

Lightning reaches for the girl's wrists. It catches Vanille's attention, who then finally stops moving. She sees a flash of fear in Vanille's eyes, but it also relieves her to see that they have reverted to their greener, livelier colour. It calms her, reassures her that Vanille is right here—she's never been gone, and Lightning has absolutely no idea what to do next but to sit up and wrap her arms around the girl.

The hug should have calmed her down. Simply holding Vanille seems to work in the past. It makes her feel safe—like she's wanted, cared for. But all of these soothing thoughts are gone when she notices the ridges on the girl's back. Vanille's breath hitches, though she isn't protesting. Lightning interprets this as an  _okay_ and traces those scars with her fingers as delicately as she can, being mindful not to go overboard. She follows the roughness of the girl's skin, closing her eyes to picture how they look—because she sure as hell can't bring herself to  _actually_ look at them. At least, not right now.

"What…" Vanille starts. Her voice is weak, "… what have I done…?"

She responds by holding her closer.

"Lightning… let go. Push me away."

Lightning isn't good with words. She stays quiet, naively hoping that just by keeping the girl in her arms, things will get better.

A sigh escapes Vanille's throat. Slowly, she returns Lightning's embrace, circling her arms around the latter's neck. "Push me away.  _Please_."

Lightning doesn't. She kisses her way up the girl's neck to her ear. There are a lot of things she wants to say—wants to  _ask_ , but Lightning is too afraid to speak. Doesn't know how to speak.

"No…" Vanille begins, drawing back, pulling herself away from Lightning's touch. "I… I need to tell you. I—the things that I've done…" she pauses, swallowing her sobs, "I… I'll hurt you."

_That's not true,_ Lightning wants to say.  _I want to. I need you._

"What I just did… it wasn't fair. It was disgusting. But I-I'm scared. If I stopped, they'd… what if they—I-I know you're not them, but I…"

Her heart is in her throat. Lightning wants this to end—Vanille, speaking like she's delirious. She doesn't want to listen—she's too afraid to. Always too afraid. Lightning is aware that someday, Vanille's going to tell her everything; how she got those scars, why she fears being intimate, why she  _broke down_ like that. But at this point, Lightning isn't sure if she can take it. Vanille said  _they._   _Them_ _._ Plural. More than one person did  _that_  to Vanille.  _Raped_ her _._

The thought of it hurts. It aches.

Everywhere.

But who is she to complain about pain? She doesn't even know. Vanille's been through much more than  _thinking_ about being violated.

No.  _Don't think._ It's selfish, but don't think. Just hold her closer.

"Y-you should never have stopped me that day on the beach."

_The beach?_ As in, where they first met? So Vanille really  _was_ trying to—

"…  _I wasn't doing what you thought I was doing."_

Liar.

She's a  _liar_.

"No." Lightning whispers, more so to herself than to the girl.

The sobs become louder. Vanille's body trembles more, but she still struggles to break free. "I never should have come here."

"You're wrong." Lightning cuts in.

Vanille inhales sharply.

She keeps Vanille's petite form in place with an arm wrapped around her waist, tilting the girl's head up by the chin. Tries her best not to cry when she sees those watery green eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I'm happy that you did," Lightning says, wiping those tears away with her thumb. "Because I—"  _selfish_. So selfish. Everything is about herself, "—I'm better when you're here.  _You_ make me feel better."

More droplets roll down Vanille's flushed cheeks. But the girl is paying attention. Listening so intently.

"I don't want to go back to being who I was before I met you. And if…" she pauses, unsure if she's getting a bit too personal. But Vanille's silence prompts her to continue.  _So just say it_. "… if meeting me has somehow changed how you feel about yourself, then please," she leans forward, bumping her forehead against Vanille's. "Don't make me push you away."

"…"

Quiet. There are no sounds. Vanille simply stares with her round, glistening eyes—like she's searching for what to say,  _how_ to say it.

Eventually, Vanille moves her hands up. They're still shaking—as is her entire form—and they're cold and hesitant, but Lightning stays still. Patient. She needs to be. When Vanille's delicate hands frame her face, she breathes out. Almost like she's relieved by Vanille's touch which, truth be told, isn't anything new.

"It can be anyone else, Lightning. It doesn't have to be me." Vanille says softly.

Being stubborn as she is, she responds by shaking her head. "I want you. Just you."

Vanille closes her eyes. On the verge of giving up. "You should let go right now. Pretend we've never met."

It's obvious; Lightning knows that Vanille is implying much,  _much_ more in her words. She also understands that she may never be able to withstand the gravity of Vanille's past. The day she learns the truth may very likely be the day that this relationship breaks—that  _Vanille_ breaks _._  It's immature, naïve, and all together stupid of her to think that she can just ignore it—to face the problem when it arises. But—

"You know I can't do that," Lightning speaks, looking up earnestly into Vanille's gaze.

And the girl returns the gesture with a puzzled expression, staring straight into her blue eyes, quietly formulating her words. "Why do you help me, Lightning? You barely know who I am."

"Then why do you help me?" Lightning answers with a question of her own.

Vanille doesn't reply right away. Her eyes dart to the corner, lips part slightly, her fingers stroke at Lightning's cheeks gingerly as she thinks of what to say. "You're a distraction," she begins, her tone solemn, "From the things that haunt me."

_Distraction…?_

Lightning remains still.

"Having a normal conversation with someone, following a routine, coming home to a person who cares about me. These are all things I've long wanted to experience. And you gave me that."

_Just a distraction._

Lightning knows she should be angry. Fuming. She should be  _livid._ She was being used. She should lash out! Yell at her! How dare she?! But…  _what's wrong?_ She wants to cry. Little, pathetic Lightning Farron wants nothing more than to break down into tears.

"Fine."

Vanille tenses.

"I'll be your distraction," she manages not to sound weak, to put up a front. "If it means that you'll stay with me, I'll be whatever you need me to be."

The girl could have laughed. She  _should_ be laughing. But instead, she clenches at her jaw. Her hands still framing Lightning's face tremble and  _she_ looks like she's about to cry. "Look what I'm doing to you," she whispers. "Doesn't it hurt?"

Lightning doesn't say anything in return. Very gently, she pulls Vanille in. She wants a hug. She needs Vanille to hold her, give her some sort of warmth, comfort.

"Doesn't matter,"

And when Vanille actually embraces her, Lightning rests her ear against the girl's beating heart and closes her eyes.

_… It's better than being alone._


	10. empty

_Fine._

Lightning shoves her phone into her pocket.

_8:03AM_

She crosses her arms—a way to cope with her impatience. She hates it when people are late. But then again, she did organize this really last minute.

Literally the last minute.

.  
.

_Vanille lies asleep on the bed. Eyebags heavy, creased eyebrows, dried trails of tears linger on her cheeks, and she looks so, so tired. Even asleep, Vanille is in pain. Lightning wants more than anything to keep her safe. She can't control it. It's like an instinct. Like it's primal._

_Even so, she speaks of heroics and selflessness, but what is she doing?_

_She's sitting away from the bed, away from Vanille, at her desk._

_(coward)_

_Just watching the girl's chest rise and fall unevenly. Lightning argues that she's confused. Because on top of feeling lost, Lightning can't shake the aching pain in her chest. It's a sensation akin to thorns prickling underneath her skin. And she doesn't know whether getting close to Vanille—both physically and mentally—would be the cure to said pain. What she does know is that she is able to find some sort of semblance to peace just by being away from the girl._

_But… why is it that another feeling is washing over her, now that she's not by Vanille's side?_

_The pain multiplies by tenfold. It shoots into her heart. It throbs in her head. Her eyes feel hot and her stomach churns. She clenches her fists. Bites at her lower lip to channel the pain elsewhere._

"…a distraction."

_Only a distraction._

_It's fine._

_She's fine with it._

_(coward)_

_Lightning pulls out her phone. She scrolls through her contacts, hoping that the person she's looking for hasn't changed his number, and then she texts away._

_._  
.

Lightning shuts her eyes, brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and pinches. The headache remains and.  _Ugh._ She doesn't want to think. Maybe if she shifted her attention elsewhere? Outside. The sky. Oh, it's grey. Is it going to rain? Sucks she didn't bring an umbrella when she came out.

A flash, and then a rumble.

Raindrops.

Thunderclaps.

 _God damn_.

What is she even doing right now? Why does she even care about her? Does she  _want_ to care?

Lightning can easily say that she doesn't. Can easily admit that when something has nothing to do with her, she can just ignore it. In essence, Vanille's wellbeing has absolutely nothing to do with her. The girl is right—Lightning barely knows her. They barely know  _each other_. If Lightning lets go right now, she can return to her normal life. Be a recluse again. Go back to her wild lifestyle if she so wishes.

She can, and is completely capable.

_But does she want to?_

The bell above the door rings as another customer enters the coffee shop. Lightning immediately looks up. She doesn't wave at the man, because she knows her striking pink hair would attract his attention. Actually, she attracts attention whether she likes it or not.

Rygdea approaches, his hair appears messier than it did last night, and now that he's in an old  _Bodhum High_ hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans, he straight up looks like a homeless man. Can't blame him. Lightning did wake him in the early hours.

"Sorry, Light, been here a long time?" Rygdea smiles sheepishly as he takes a seat across from her. They're at this small, circular table and there isn't much space. "This place is quite cozy. I don't remember this being around the neighbourhood back then. Oh, you're not gonna get a drink? You should while the line is still small—"

"What do you know about Vanille?"

"…"

Lightning's question is a demand. No upper intonation—it is borderline accusatory. It is the exact tone she would use when interrogating suspects that she's caught in the past.

But there is a reason she's coming off so aggressively. If there is one thing she knows about Rygdea, it is the fact that he is a nice guy. So nice that it is nearly impossible for him to hide things. Ergo, it is easy for people to read him  _when_ he's hiding something.

Indeed, Rygdea's body goes stiff at her beckoning. His mouth parts as if he has the need to come up with some bullshit to cover up for whatever he's hiding. But it doesn't last—he gives up before he even considers. In turn, he just draws out his breath, closing his eyes in utter defeat. Honestly, what's the point in lying when he's going to be seen through, anyway?

"Y'know, I was hoping that you really meant it when you said you wanted to have breakfast with me."

She crosses her arms, expressionless.

"But… who am I kidding? Lightning Farron, always the serious one. Bet you caught on after seeing my reaction from yesterday, am I right?"

"Rygdea."

"I can't tell you anything about her, Light. You know that." Rygdea states immediately upon catching onto her impatience.

Asking  _why not_ would simply be immature. At the same time, she understands that every department has its own level of secrecy, especially if it's one working directly under the Sanctum. Breaking this code would result in severe consequences. But, at the same time, Rygdea is someone she calls a friend—someone whom she trusts. And she doesn't think this of another person often. Lightning leans in, looking deep into the man's bright blue eyes. "But you wouldn't have shown up knowing that I would never let this go."

He nods. "Correct." And then he, too, leans in. "That's why I came," he pauses, cautiously glancing around, as if to make sure they're not being eavesdropped on.

Lightning sees the unease in his body language. He's clenching his fingers together, nails digging into his knuckles and his jaw flexes. If she were a bit more empathetic, she would at the very least feel some sense of guilt or understand how difficult this is for him. After all, she is making him break this code.

In the end, however, she is selfish. She puts herself ahead of everything. And when she wants something, she  _will_  get it.

"Light," he starts, lowering his voice, "How much do you know about her?"

Her brows narrow with annoyance. "Does it matter?" she shoots back defensively.

"It matters because I'm worried. Scared, even. What I'm going to tell you isn't simply facts. It is something that will come to affect you. Something that will define your relationship with her."

A moment of seriousness from Rygdea. How very rare. Lightning leans back into her seat. "Not enough," she answers. As blunt as it sounds, she is being sincere. "I don't know enough."

Rydea somehow understands this, though. He continues, "You know of her scars?"

Lightning's eyes dart up to him.

"Do you know how she got them?"

She concentrates, never breaking eye contact.

He pauses, bringing a hand up to his stubbled chin and he rubs at his skin with his fingers. "Light… you have to be honest with me. How much does this person mean to you?"

…

" _Why do you help me, Lightning? You barely know who I am."_

_I don't know who you are._

_I don't know._

…

_But I—_

"Sorry, that was a dumb question. You wouldn't be here if you didn't care about her."

 _Care about her?_ Does she?

"Light, I… I really can't go into the details. But Vanille—this girl—you need to be more wary of her. She's more dangerous than you think."

Lightning stiffens. Literally. Her blood freezes in her veins and her lungs stop working. "What?" her voice comes out in a bare whisper.

Rygdea bites at his gums. He surveys around himself again, and this growing paranoia is nothing less than irritating. "She's not… how do I put it?" he struggles for the words—struggles to articulate, "… from this world."

…  _what?_

He leans in even closer. By now, Lightning is so concentrated that she, too, has moved towards him. Rygdea's hand that was previously rubbing at his chin is now covering his mouth. His eyes do not meet Lightning's when he finally says, "… Pulse."

Lightning's mouth goes dry. All the witty remarks, all the questions she still wants to ask disappear from her head. Gone. Empty.

He reaches across the table, touching her forearm. "Light?"

Her mind is a blur. It spins and feels like jelly again. Why is her headache worsening? Not enough sleep, maybe? Or she's been bothered by too many things lately. Therefore it's no surprise when words begin to spill out of her mouth involuntarily, "S-she's…"

Rygdea's hold on her becomes stronger.

"... an enemy…?" Lightning mouths, the sound barely coming out.

Innocent, bubbly Vanille. All this time—she's been lying, using her, and is an enemy of Cocoon…?

Her friend seems to understand the weight of the truth, because he's just staying quiet. He's giving her a moment to take in everything. She's grateful for this, make no mistake, but she doesn't have what it takes to show appreciation right now. The headache is worse than ever as her  _brain_ pounds—so much that she can hear it in her ears. She rests her elbows on the table, hides her face in her palms and she just focuses on breathing. Without Van— _no._ Without  _anyone_ to help her, she's alone. She needs to get through this alone. She can't rely on anyone anymore.

Especially not her.

Rygdea's hand is now on her shoulder. He shakes her a little. "How are you holding up?" He asks softly.

"I'm fine." She answers, a bit too easily.

"You sure?"

Lightning waits a little more before raising her head. Face now completely pale. There is no ounce of emotion. "What else do you know?"

Rygdea shows hesitation—it's obvious he can't say any more, but seeing the flare behind Lightning's eyes just prompts him to speak. "I was one of the soldiers in charge of interrogation. I personally do not know when she was captured. My main objective was to question her about the locations of her people, but she never gave in. At least, not to me. Can't say the same for my colleagues."

So Vanille is some sort of asset to the PSICOM? Then why is she here…?

"Also, Light," Rygdea clears his throat, "... she's supposed to be dead."

Lightning tenses up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said," he answers. "And I really can't tell you any more."

A pause. Neither one talks. The sound of quiet chatter, the smell of coffee beans, and the ambience of the light mixed with the greyness outside helps soothe the mood a little. Just by a bit. Lightning looks outside and realizes that it's started to rain. She considers many options. She can guilt trip Rygdea into telling her more, because it's going to be easy. Use the  _I'm-your-friend_  card. Tell him she's desperate. Just manipulate the guy. She's the best at it. But, once again, Lightning doesn't know if she can take anymore.

"I just… I just want you to know. I have no right telling you what to do, but Pulsians are dangerous. You of all people should know that."

She keeps her eyes glued at the window, just staring blankly at the falling raindrops.  _Yes,_ of course she knows. How can she not? It is because she knows. That's why she's so  _fucked up_ now. So many wasted opportunities. The scholarships, the recommendations, the job and university offers… her family, her  _happiness._ All taken away  _because_ she understands how dangerous the Pulsians are.

Lightning should be angry. Her life is ruined because of those people. But… what is she doing? Why won't she let this go? Why does she still feel the need to… to—

"She was tortured," she suddenly says.

A moment passes and Rygdea breaks into a sigh, as if he's expected her to say that. "Certain measures are necessary when getting the truth from prisoners."

Her eyes flash dangerously and she stands straight up. The chair falls behind her and the small crowd sitting at the tables around them look over. Lightning doesn't wait for the attention to shift away. She begins, muttering under her breath, "Does that include rape?"

The colour on Rygdea's face just  _changes._ The healthy pinkish colour is replaced with a pale green. It's like all the blood has been drained from him. "What…?"

"Did you rape her?" Lightning reiterates.

"No!" And he, too, stands up. "No, Light, I would never! We weren't authorized—what are you talking ab—"

He doesn't finish. He  _couldn't_ finish. Because the next thing he knows, he's thrown onto the ground, spitting out blood and a couple of his teeth on the side of his mouth. He places a palm on his cheek and it is only by feeling the sting that he realizes he's been punched. Shocked and confused, he looks at the pink-haired soldier, standing tall and imposing above him. "I didn't…! Light—"

She grabs him by the collar, kneeling down to be on the same level, but that doesn't make her any less threatening. "But you hurt her."

"I…" he stops. There's definitely more that he wants to say, but he obviously can't bring himself to do it. So he resorts to telling the simple truth. "I was following orders," he says weakly.  _Guiltily._

Following orders.

She grits her teeth, bringing her fist up because she  _so desperately_ wants to punch anyone who lays hands on Vanille.

But the man remains still. He doesn't flinch and instead steels himself. "I'm not the enemy, Light."

She knows. Of course she knows.

Rygdea places his hand over Lightning's. And then he speaks lowly, "Remember who killed your parents."

Lightning gasps.

" _... Farron from 10A, please report to the headmaster's office…"_

Her grip on Rygdea's collar loosens. She backs up, eyes widen in shock.

" _... I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this_."

Stop. Stop it...

Lightning tries to breathe evenly. She looks around and catches all these eyes—judging her, deeming her to be useless,  _pathetic,_ and she wants to hide. She needs to escape.

" _... your parents were caught in an ambush at the Fifth Arc_ —"

"I won't tell anyone about this, you have my word," Rygdea cuts in.

 _God…_ why is his voice so hollow? Like he's speaking into a well. Lightning can barely hear him.

"... but you need to figure this out on your own."

No.

_I don't want to._

She bursts out of the coffee shop, running in the rain. The water droplets barely help cool her down, but she keeps running without any direction. Her whole being burns in… what is this? What is beyond anger? Indignation?  _Doesn't matter._ She is soaked from head to toe. The air she breathes in attacks her lungs, and this sensation spreads to every fibre of her being. It strikes her now how much her body is screaming in pain and how weak she truly is. Can't even run. Can't even hide. Her soaked clothes weigh her down and she tries to drag her heavy feet a couple of steps forward, but eventually gives up when her legs turn into lead—like they refuse to move. With nothing listening to her now, she just stands here, letting the rain hit her. Maybe this is for the better. She needs a moment. She needs  _quiet._

The fringes of her pink hair cling onto her face. Her clothes stick onto her skin and it's so cold.  _So cold._ But her insides are burning—her muscles, her head, her lungs,  _her._ Lightning shuts her eyes, crosses her arms, and gnaws at her lower lip.

She needs something to numb her.

_Anything._

If it means to get pissed drunk in the morning, then so be it. Bodhum is known to be a party city, so getting alcohol at this hour isn't a problem at all. She takes a deep breath—as much as it stings—and drags forward.

"Lightning."

_Oh no._

She turns around, slowly. Not for the dramatic effect, but more so because she can't move properly right now. Her body won't react. Though, when she sees the girl who just called to her, a new surge of energy rushes in her blood. She balls her fists, nails dig into her own skin and she's pretty sure her shoulders are shaking.

Vanille, holding onto an umbrella, walks up to her.

_Don't come near me._

"You're soaked," the girl says, moving the umbrella over to cover Lightning from the rain.

_Please._

"What are you doing out here?"

_Get away from me._

Lightning refuses to raise her head. She just stares at the tips of her shoes. "Why are you out here?"

"I was…"

Worried? Concerned? Scared? Why does Vanille care? Why would a Pulsian, a  _murderer_ care? Lightning wants to ask her.  _Oh,_ she wants to  _fucking ask_ —

"... I want to know too." Vanille barely says.

Lightning doesn't speak. She looks up to stare in silence—at those gentle, kind eyes.  _Oh,_ how it hurts to know that those eyes she adores so much belong to an enemy. To a liar. To someone who is  _using her._ Why did she have to go out to look for the truth? She was completely content being ignorant. Content with being a simple distraction.

She  _was_ content.

So stupid.

So naive.

So  _fucking childish._

"Lightning—"

"Vanille."

Sounds of falling raindrops tap at the umbrella.

"Be my distraction."

Vanille doesn't answer immediately, but when she does, it is very peculiar. Uncanny. Her expression doesn't change. Her face remains as straight as Lightning's—lacking in emotion and feeling.

"Okay," she finally says, moving in even closer. "What do you need me to do?"

.  
.

Their clothes are scattered on the bathroom floor. While Lightning's are soaked to the core, Vanille's are  _ripped_ beyond repair. It's no biggie. Lightning's just letting off some steam. Why else did she use to go out all the time, drowning herself in alcohol, only to wake up next to a stranger? Because it felt good. Even if it merely lasts for a brief moment. It lets her think about other things. The pain of a hangover, the gratification and the pleasureful spasms sex grants her—this is her form of a medicine. A drug. It helps.

It really does.

So now that she has someone who is willingly volunteering to be all of this  _drug_ in a package, why the fuck should she hold back?

"Turn around." Lightning grunts.

Vanille does. No argument. She turns towards the glass door in the shower, and when she least expects it, Lightning pins her against the cold surface with her body. The water from the showerhead is too hot but Lightning pays no attention to that. She pushes forward, grabbing Vanille's breasts from behind as she dips her head into the crook of the girl's neck, where she just  _bites._ Vanille whimpers at that, but she doesn't complain. Her body stiffens as her arms struggle to grip onto the glass—it is all in vain, however, as they just keep slipping down.

"Spread your legs," she says into the girl's ear.

Once again, Vanille does. Lightning finds the bitemark again and recaptures it, digging her teeth deep into the girl's skin and she doesn't care if she's drawing blood. A hand travels downwards while the other one continues to massage at Vanille's breast, teasing the hardened peak. Vanille whines when Lightning pinches too hard, but she never,  _ever_ fights back.

Without any signs of protest, Lightning moves lower. She reaches the apex of Vanille's folds, and the first contact of her fingers brushing against her clit makes the girl jump. Like she just…  _trembles._ It's kind of amazing. And Lightning wants to see it—to  _feel_ it—again. So she moves her fingers over the bud, this time  _pressing hard_ —

" _Aahh...!"_ Vanille bucks her hips. Twitching away from Lightning's touch.

"Stay still." She commands.

Maybe it's the fact that her voice is so low, or maybe it's her tone? But Vanille visibly shakes, this time out of fear.

Lightning uses the girl's immobility to her advantage, starting out slow at first; she manages to make Vanille let out a soft moan, but she isn't in for being gentle today.  _Not to the likes of her people._ Her fingers travel lower and she barely gives herself any time to tease at the entrance. At the warmth of Vanille's opening, Lightning abandons all restraint and just slips two fingers in.

" _Oh—mmm…_!"

Music. Pure music. Lightning sucks at Vanille's earlobe. The girl's nipple has been toyed with so much that it has turned red and raw, but Lightning doesn't stop. In fact, she starts to claw at it, marring the white skin at Vanille's breast as the marks leave reddened trails in their wake. Vanille makes noises that are a mix between whimpers and sobs, but, once again, Lightning sees no reason to stop. Because Vanille herself isn't fighting back. The warm muscles surrounding her fingers clench down— _fuck,_ Vanille is so tight. And it feels  _so_ wonderful to have herself wrapped like this. So  _safe._

She pushes further in, slowly, inch by inch. Vanille's breath hitches and she trembles uncomfortably, arching away from Lightning's touch. But this doesn't please Lightning. She releases her breast and grips onto Vanille's hip, fighting to keep her still. "I said don't move," she grunts. Lightning ignores Vanille's sobs and buries her fingers in deeper; the rim of the girl's folds touch her knuckles, and while it feels like a dream to be inside of these tight walls, Lightning thinks it's much more thrilling to hear her  _scream._ And so she quickly retracts her fingers—only to thrust in again with full force, right to the hilt.

"Nnn... ohh!  _Please..."_

With each fill, the pitch in Vanille's voice becomes higher, harsher. To Lightning, they are the sounds of encouragement, urging her to go faster, deeper,  _harder._

"P-please…  _please,_ I-I..."

What. What does she want?

Vanille turns her head a little.

Their eyes clash.

" _Would… would you be willing to wait for me? A-at least, until I'm ready?"_

Lightning just stares.

" _I want this to work_ — _us."_

Vanille's words… from many days ago. They're just echoing.

" _And if this is what we have to do, then I'll try."_

Yes.

She's trying right now,  _voice._

_So shut up._

"Don't look at me." Lightning whispers. She shuts her eyes and plunges her fingers  _deeper._ Vanille turns back to the front, hiding her face from Lightning as her jaw hangs loose. Her moans twist into silent yelps and she looks  _so_ uncomfortable.

But why does she care?

 _Who_ cares?

That liar.

_Fuck you for trying to use me._

And then she just  _grinds_  the heel of her palm against Vanille's clit, curling her fingers at that  _swollen front wall_ and—

Vanille screams— _a piercing, agonizing scream_ —and she arches forward, pressing her breasts against the glass door as her entire being  _shatters_. Her body quakes; her walls flutter around Lightning's fingers and it feels so,  _so_ fucking flattering. Lightning doesn't let the moment end. She tries to seize it, to drag it on, never neglecting to press her palm against Vanille's bundle of nerves. The girl, in turn, writhes—not in pleasure, this time very evidently in protest, but at this point, she's much too weak to do anything about it. The pained sounds coming from her mouth bounce off the walls of the bathroom, and although Lightning is tempted to shut her up by kissing her, she doesn't know if she wants to look directly at her right now.

Or ever.

Vanille's knees buckle and it seems as though she would collapse if Lightning just takes a step back.

Lightning knows this, of course, which is why she  _does_ take a step back, letting the girl slide down into the tub.

Seeing her curled-up, trembling body lying so lifelessly below, seeing those scars that are scattered across her back, Lightning finds confusion. It… it hurts.

No.

Stupid.

_You're not supposed to be so weak._

Yes.

It… feels nice. It's supposed to.

"Now, me." She instructs, resting her back against the tiled wall.

Vanille curls up even more. Her face can't be seen, but judging by her trembling form, anyone can tell what her expression is like. But Lightning convinces herself that Vanille is shaking because of the strong orgasm that she's given her.

Eventually, Vanille crawls up. She kneels between Lightning's legs and nuzzles her nose up her inner thighs. The water still running down from the showerhead makes it difficult for Vanille to open her eyes, but Lightning finds it incredibly arousing to see the girl struggle to breathe.

Arousing and  _hot._

Impatience overwhelms her and she reaches behind Vanille's head, pulling her in. She needs this.  _Fuck,_ it's been so long. She needs this to drown out the noises. The irritating thoughts of her past, of Vanille, of  _what she's doing is wrong._

She needs everything to go away. She… she only wants…

" _I want you. Just you."_

Vanille's tongue trails up her thighs. She can feel the soft muscle coming closer,  _closer._ It reaches her opening; the warmth tickles her skin, sending sparks across her eyes but she wants to look. Vanille is— _ugh, fuck_ —she's so concentrated. Her head keeps bobbing between her legs and when she feels that tongue  _enter her_ —

"Fff—fuck…!"

Her grip at the back of Vanille's head tightens. Her fingers tangle with the orange hair and she guides the girl, urging her to thrust in more by pulling her in.  _More._ She yanks at the hair when she wants Vanille to retract. Lightning wants to be in control.  _Needs_ to be control. She doesn't know what would happen if she weren't in control.

But Vanille catches her off-guard, her tongue moves higher, lightly brushing against Lightning's clit and when she  _sucks_ —

"V-Vanille…!" Admittedly, Lightning is rather quiet in bed. Or, uh, when she has sex. She is not very vocal. In fact, there are times when she can be completely quiet. The fact that she's making noises only means that she's very wound up. Because she hasn't done this for a while. It's not because Vanille's actually  _fucking amazing_ … right?

She doesn't have the answer to this. Her vision blurs as Vanille's lips wrap around the hardened bud again. Her inner muscles convulse, rippling intensely and she thinks she sees stars. Lightning keeps Vanille's head between her legs. She wants the girl to draw out her orgasm. She wants this to last. Vanille seems to understand as her tongue continues to lap at that sensitive spot.

But as good as it felt in those brief moments, reality always comes crashing down. Lightning concludes that she has never once felt this empty after sex.

It's empty because she expected much more. With Vanille, it should've meant more.

_It should've._

Lightning tilts Vanille's head up. Their eyes meet briefly, and they stare at each other. But there is no purpose. No meaning. It's just empty.

It's so empty that she doesn't want to hang on. So Lightning lets go. She nearly shoves the girl to the side when she steps out of the shower. She wraps a towel around herself, dries off quickly and never looks back. Lightning grabs a simple t-shirt and a pair of shorts, throwing them on and she just sits on her bed.

Eventually, the sound of the running water in her bathroom stops, and Vanille comes out with only a towel wrapped around herself.  _Oh right_ , Lightning's ripped her clothes. Vanille trudges on in silence, walking past Lightning towards the door but the latter acts quickly. It's like an instinct, because when Vanille comes close, Lightning grabs onto her hand. The action is rough and anything but gentle.

Vanille doesn't speak. Doesn't even wince. She clutches onto the towel at her chest, looking all nervous as she takes the queue to step in front of Lightning.

And Lightning, through her harsh glare, just remains silent.

But Vanille seems to understand. Why does she  _always_ understand in this situation?

_No, don't answer that._

She doesn't want to know.

"More?" Vanille whispers.

Lightning looks to her feet. She nods.

Just like clockwork, Vanille removes the towel, letting it drop to the ground. Her body that has yet to dry off is once again exposed, and Lightning finds herself wrapping her arms around the girl's midsection. Which is odd because… because shouldn't she feel disgusted by this  _enemy?_ Her mind is telling her to push Vanille away, but no. Lightning's weak. What she does next surprises even herself; she thought that she could do this. That she could leave the little girl who so desperately needs someone to cling onto—the little girl who fears so much being alone.

But she's pathetic, and she's starting to accept that.

She leans in, hiding her face in Vanille's chest. "Stay," she says softly.

The girl, in response, holds her close. She kisses the top of Lightning's head and moves forward, pushing her gently down onto the bed. Vanille presses kisses on Lightning's cheeks, peppering them across the tip of her nose, eyes, forehead, but when she comes close to her lips, Lightning instinctively shirks.

She turns away.

In her peripherals, Lightning can see the  _hurt_ filling Vanille's eyes.

The pain transcends anything else she can ever imagine. It just…  _hits_  her, hard. How easy is it to tell Vanille that she's sorry? Or she can simply compensate with actions if words are difficult? Maybe just hold her. Kiss her back.  _Anything._ But Lightning doesn't. She can't. Doesn't know how.

"What are you doing?" She says instead, "Don't stop."

Vanille doesn't answer. She clenches her eyes shut and continues to kiss downwards.


	11. kiss II

"Ah, there she is! Our favourite soldier girl!" Gadot greets her with an insatiable enthusiasm. Likewise, Yuj, who is serving on the patio, gives Lightning a wink, but doesn't do anything more as he is occupied with a customer.

Rude of her, but Lightning doesn't even give a hint of a response. She simply makes her way towards the bar counter, as per usual, and sits there, wordlessly.

And, just as usual, Lebreau rolls her eyes as said soldier girl silently demands for her drink. "You're half an hour early this time."

Lightning places an elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand, "I can wait." She says as she usually does, making the barmaid shake her head. "Serve me some alcohol, will you? It's the weekend."

Lebreau raises a thin brow and crosses her arms. "Um. Should I be concerned?"

"It was an easy yes or no question," Lightning deadpans.

"Well, the answer is obviously no," the barmaid says. "Seriously, Light. What's gotten into you? Thought you've stopped being a bum since Vanille came into your life."

She glares. When was she ever a bum? She works hard, parties hard. That's the meaning of life, isn't it? Freaking Lebreau and her need to be wise and shit. "If you're not going to give me any alcohol, at least give me a cider or something."

A huff. "You sound pretty rude for someone who's getting free drinks at my bar." Lebreau crosses her arms.

Before she can say anything more, though, Yuj comes in, waving a cheque in hand. "Think that's the last of them at the patio for the night. Honestly, Lebreau. Have Vanille work outside next time. Do you notice the difference in the amount of customers? Barely anyone comes in when I'm the poster boy."

"I've been considering that," Lebreau responds, "for a long time, actually."

Yuj takes a seat beside Lightning. "But...?"

The barmaid shrugs. "Not sure Light would permit it."

"Ooh, you're right about that."

Lightning doesn't react, in spite of the two blatantly gossiping about her in front of her.

"Even so," Lebreau starts again, "There's nothing she can do about it tomorrow, with the fireworks and everything."

Yuj nearly slams his head onto the counter. "Ugh, shit. The fireworks. It's going to get so busy. Can't there be at least one year where I'm off on that day? I want to rent an airbike and go near the show like all those romantic couples do..."

"Quit your whining, you don't even have a girlfriend," Lebreau frowns. "And, hey! Your shift isn't over yet! What are you doing, taking a break?"

"Kind of," Yuj whispers to himself before running off to one of the customers raising his hand.

"And you," the barmaid points to Lightning. Uh oh, Yuj has gotten her into a bad mood. "Don't think I'm letting you go—you're awfully quiet. What's gotten into you? Why haven't you laid eyes on Vanille  _once_ since coming in here?"

.  
.

"…  _nnn… ohh—!"_

_Lightning digs her nails into Vanille's hips, holding her in place as her fingers plunge into her opening. Every single time for the past few days, feeling those tight walls grip onto her grants her a moment of satisfaction. Just a moment. But she'll take it. Lightning will take everything that she can get from this liar._

" _Higher." She instructs._

_Vanille does so. No argument, nothing new. She raises her hips, upper body resting on the mattress for support and she just hides her face in the soft pillows._

_It gives Lightning a better angle. It lets her thrust in faster, reach deeper. It makes Vanille's walls hold onto her fingers more tightly. It feels so good. Hearing Vanille scream, seeing those scars on her back up close, watching her writhe in discomfort. It… it makes her feel better. Yes. The way Vanille claws at the sheets, nearly ripping them with her blunt nails. How her voice is getting harsher night by night. How the colour in her face starts to pale. How her entire spirit seems to have escaped. How this is all so obvious._

_It's obvious that Vanille doesn't want this. That she's in pain, but what does Lightning do?_

_She continues to thrust in, reaches to grab Vanille's neck and pulls her up, nearly choking the girl. Her chest collided against Vanille's back, and Lightning has access to bite at that neck again. It's not like she's a monster or anything—I'm fact, biting isn't even her kink, but there's something about marking Vanille as her own that makes her feel in power. In control. So she can't help it when she pulls Vanille closer with a strangling strength, exposing that old wound. And she most certainly can't help it when her teeth sink into that pale flesh._

" _Oh god…! Nn…"_

_It's a miracle nobody's seen this. Maybe Vanille's pigtails hide them well? It's amazing, considering that the mark legitimately looks like a vampire's bite. Ooh, what an analogy. Lightning being an insatiable, blood-thirsty vampire. Vanille being her submissive, obedient thrall. Their relationship is literally this._

_Lightning takes and Vanille just gives._

_She pulls her fingers out, only to quickly move the same arm around Vanille's slender waist from the front so she may press down on the girl's clit peeking out from her folds._

" _No… no… please..."_

_Lightning ignores her cries. She realizes that whenever Vanille's close, her body would fight it. Like she doesn't want it._

_Who can blame her?_

_Lightning's teeth never leave their place. She feels the need to be rougher. More. Her fingers that are nearly strangling Vanille dig into the flesh. Lightning's other hand rubs harsh circles on Vanille's clit._

" _Please… no…" she cries repeatedly._

_But Lightning just bites harder. Grips onto her neck more. Oh god. Vanille's vulnerability turns her on so much. It's so hot. Fuck. And her voice. Lightning wants more—she wants Vanille to scream. Call her name. Something. Lightning doesn't care, just some sort of response is fine. Anything. Her fingers then pinch at that bud—_

" _Aaahh—!"_

_Vanille throws her head back. Her jaw drops open, gasping desperately for her breath as her body quakes. Vanille's hips buck at nothing with an uncontrolled strength as Lightning deliberately removes her fingers, opting to hold onto the girl's flat stomach. The tremors spread to Vanille's limbs and she barely has the strength to support herself on her knees. She falls over. Lightning releases her at the same time to let her body fall lifelessly onto the bed. She takes the time to watch. Vanille, barely having the strength to curl up, barely having it in her to resort to her most basic defence mechanism. She's just lying there, trembling away._

_And Lightning just watches._

_Vanille's body continues to twitch at the violent aftershocks as she tries her utter best to muffle her sobs into the pillow._

" _Get up," Lightning says. No sympathy at all. Because she isn't giving the girl a break._

_The command and the overall tone of Lightning's voice makes Vanille jump. Her sobs immediately stop, and while her body is still twitching uncomfortably, Vanille somehow manages to push herself up, kneeling weakly in front of Lightning. Her head is lowered. Hair covering her face. She looks so small. So vulnerable. Trails of tears are still rolling down her flushed cheeks, but Lightning is more drawn to the blood oozing out of that bitemark. It streams down Vanille's collarbone, down to her breast, trailing between the mounds. Down, down, down—_

_On instinct, Lightning dives in, the force pushing the unexpecting Vanille onto her back. She grabs the girl's wrists, pinning them on either side of her head and then she finds the trail of blood, catching it right before it reaches Vanille's navel. Lightning is fascinated; Vanille… this Pulsian's blood is so ordinary, so much like her own. She darts her tongue out, curious. She follows the trail upwards—cleaning it meticulously up to Vanille's chest, pausing to taste—like iron—and she swallows. It's so peculiar, yet so ordinary. How can this be? Lightning doesn't know why, but she savours it. She runs her tongue out to get more. And, inadvertently, her eyes find Vanille's, emerald crystals sparkling in a pool of tears that are threatening to spill. Lightning thinks it hot that what she's doing is scaring the girl. It feels so good. Lightning continues to lick upwards, now spellbound to break eye contact. The warm, red liquid attacks her tastebuds and she concludes that she may actually have a blood fetish. When she reaches the bitemark, Lightning captures it once more, and she drinks from it._

" _Mmn…" Vanille moans. An actual moan. This is probably the first time Lightning's heard pleasure from the girl since… ever. And hearing that, some part of her mind unconsciously decides to release Vanille's wrists. Her arms then, just as unconsciously, circles around the girl's waist, holding her close. Vanille, in turn, returns the embrace. Like she's been waiting for it. Her arms wrap securely around Lightning's head, as if to encourage her to drink more. Drink gently._

_Lightning does. She doesn't mean to be so submissive, but she does. She is so careful, so soft with her tongue it makes Vanille relax. Like, her body is no longer tensed as it usually is when Lightning fucks her senseless. Vanille's fingers comb through her soft pink tresses, and it eases Lightning. Eventually, her mouth leaves that bitemark; she moves to Vanille's collarbone, where she nibbles gingerly, and then she kisses her way up the girl's neck._

" _L-Lightning…"_

_Her heart jumps. Hearing her name coming out in the form of a moan from Vanille's mouth just sends sparks down her spine. Who knew something so simple could break her?_

_Surprised, she pulls back a little, now directly on top of the girl, facing her._

_And Vanille, ever so kind and gentle with her gaze, smiles. She… she is actually smiling. Her delicate fingers reach up, framing Lightning's face, running small circles on those soft cheeks with her thumbs. It's just for a brief second, but Lightning catches the girl's eyes darting down to her lips. Like she wants to kiss or something._

_Lightning, responding to that small gesture, leans down. Because her heart is pounding. Her skin crawls at every opportunity she doesn't take to kiss the girl. And there have been many in the past two weeks. Too many. This time, though—this time, she leans down. Slowly, painstakingly slow. It grants her the chance to observe Vanille. The girl completely submits herself; she closes her eyes, relaxes. So vulnerable._

"…"

_When their lips touch, it's gentle—a mere brush. Both of their mouths are parted, inviting, but there is no urgency to push this any further._

_So Lightning pulls back, content to just stare at the girl below._

_Said girl opens her eyes. At first glancing at the corner of the room, but finally finds the will to look at the soldier on top of her. "I-I can go on… if you need me to." She says quietly._

_Lightning's eyes widen when Vanille reaches for her hand, moving it down between her legs._

" _I need to make you feel good," she goes on, and there is nothing but reluctance in those words._

Oh. How it hurts.

_Lightning isn't sure exactly how long she stayed quiet for. But in that moment, a feeling of disgust, of shame, embarrassment washes over her. It strikes her so hard she can feel the pain stab her in the chest. It shoots to every vein in her body and she visibly trembles. Lightning bites onto her lower lip. Shuts her eyes. Nods._

_Just like that, Vanille gently flips Lightning over and kisses her everywhere but the lips._

.  
.

It's quite easy to ignore these prying questions when one's an emotionless  _desert_ and has zero regard for others _._ Lightning just stares off into space. At one of the fancier alcohol bottles on the shelf behind Lebreau, to be exact. The writing is hard to pick out, but is that Eorzean? When did Lebreau ever travel to Eorzea? Thought they banned exporting alcohol from there?

"Lightning Farron."

In a near slow-motion fashion, Lightning turns back to the barmaid. Expression blank.

And, seeing how Lightning has no intention in explaining herself, Lebreau thinks it wise to give up. She droops her head, shaking it in defeat. "I'll never understand you, Light."

"And you'll never have to." Lightning says easily.

The barmaid raises her head again, this time just in utter disappointment. Lightning used to get affected by those judging eyes. But she's gotten used to it. How can she not? Her teachers, her headmaster, her friends, colleagues— _her_ —they all had, at one point, looked at her like this. Judging. Pitying. Never  _understanding._

Hence, disappointment.

They're always disappointed. So why bother caring anymore?

"Right then," Lebreau starts speaking again, this time not even bothering to make eye contact. She just nonchalantly wipes down a wine glass. "I'm not letting Vanille off tomorrow. It's gonna be hectic and I will need all the help I can get."

Oh, and Lightning's supposed to care?

"With that being said," she places the wine glass down and leans on the counter. "How about you come by and help me out tomorrow, seeing how you've got nothing to do? It actually makes sense, y'know? Considering how I've treated you so many drinks—literally every time you walk in."

Wow. No hesitation at all. What a boss-lady thing to say. Lightning, being the authoritative sergeant first-class that she is, also leans on the counter and glares back, adamant in her reply. "No."

Lebreau grunts. She pulls back, shoulders scrunched up to her ears. "Worth a try. Just thought you'd come by to help out your lovely redhead. You know how lazy my boys are. The one who actually gets things done here is Vanille."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lightning wants to say that she knows, and that it is amazing. Because the NORA bar is in fact insanely busy; after all, Bodhum isn't all that big. It has a plethora of good night clubs, yeah, but decent bars? Nah. Most of them are quite shitty. To Lightning's standards, NORA is actually quite up there. It is then only natural that it is almost  _always_ busy. So for Vanille to work so hard and then to come home and still have stamina left for… well,  _you know._ It truly is amazing.

"Just think about it," Lebreau says. She turns to look toward the tables, where the girl in question is cheerfully speaking to some customers. "I know she'd be happy if you just showed up. Look at her. She just brightens up when you walk into the room. Though, I'll still stand by my word and say that you're not right for her, and that you're a freaking menace at times, but… the truth of the matter is that she adores you. Almost disgustingly so."

Lightning keeps her eyes glued on her drink, pretending as if she didn't get affected by those words. As if her heartstrings aren't being twisted in the most excruciating way.  _Ugh,_ she really wants to. But she really shouldn't _._ She wants to see Vanille. She's like  _right there._ But in the end, Lightning doesn't physically turn to look at the girl until Lebreau's walked off to fetch something.

Well, isn't she caught in a conundrum?

Look at her. Vanille is smiling. Happily taking orders and laughing alongside strangers as if this is her dream job or something. Are these genuine emotions? Lightning can't tell anymore. And, about what Lebreau said. That Vanille's mood changes for the better when she walks in. How can that be true? After what Lightning's done to her… it's impossible. No way.

She doesn't believe it. Doesn't. But when she accidentally makes eye contact with Vanille, and when Vanille just  _smiles_ at her…

Lightning's at a loss.

Her heart skips a beat. She forgets how to breathe in that small span of a moment.

_Fuck._

She turns away. Don't look. Don't look at her.

_Just… don't._

…

_.  
._

"… Light… ning…"

Don't even look at her when  _you fuck her tonight._ Face her back. Fuck her from behind.  _That's it._  Lightning complies to the voices in her head.

"I… I c-can't breathe…" Vanille whimpers into the pillow.

 _Shut up,_ Lightning wants to say. But what does she do instead? She turns Vanille back around, letting the girl lie on her back.  _Oh, no._ Now they're looking at each other. It sends shivers down Lightning's spine. God damn. Why didn't she just  _listen to the voice_?! If she did that, if she would  _just—_

Vanille lets out a gasp when Lightning's eyes find hers.

No.  _No, what are you doing?! Don't look._

But Lightning doesn't listen. She leans down, comes face to face with Vanille, much like the other night.

Though, this time, Vanille's smile is more…  _real?_ But her thin brows are creased. Like she's in slight distress. Whatever, a smile's a smile. Shyly, her tiny palms reach for Lightning's face. The warmth of Vanille's skin against her own ironically makes her jump, yet she thinks it important to stay still. To keep their gaze connected. Because if she flinches, if she moves away, she…  _she doesn't know what to do afterwards._

"Lightning,"

…

_(ask me something else)_

_Shut up_ —

_(please don't ask me to continue)_

— _just fuck her—_

Vanille moves her fingers higher, brushing them against Lightning's pink locks. She moves a few strands behind an ear, only to watch them fall stubbornly back to their original place.

"Does it feel good?"

…

Lightning is unmoving. She doesn't answer, either. Just stares.

But she contemplates. She thinks about the question. Yes and no, she can answer.

Yes.

Because Lightning can use the girl to all her extent. The girl doesn't complain, doesn't fight back. Lightning's past partners would always have some sort of limit or would set boundaries. That's why their relationships never lasted long. But with Vanille… well, the girl just doesn't complain. It's that simple. If there are no complaints, then Lightning sees no reason to stop. And, to be fair, this is a relationship. A mutual agreement.

That's what a relationship is, is it not?

No.

Because she'd be lying if she said that it makes her feel good. She feels like absolute  _shit._ She feels like vomiting every time she makes Vanille scream. Her eyes sting when Vanille's the one who has tears rolling down her cheeks. Her heart just  _clenches_ when Vanille lies trembling on the bed, all vulnerable and in need of a hug.

This is not a relationship.

"Lightning?" Vanille calls underneath. Her fingers come back to the pinkette's cheeks, gently caressing the skin there as she urges for a response.

Lightning, in turn, stares blankly. Her eyes dart down to Vanille's parted lips. Yet another opportunity, but will she take it? Kiss her again,  _fuck_ her again, only to find out that somehow, the former gives her more satisfaction.

How odd.

It didn't used to be like this.

Kissing is minuscule, pointless. Sex, on the other hand, is thrilling, satiating.

Regardless, Lightning craves for the kiss. Her fingers trace a gentle line on the bottom lip, her touch soft and elusive—very much like her thoughts. And so it surprises even her when she discovers she has run out of resolve. Because the next thing she knows, she's brushing her lips against Vanille's. Just lightly.  _Barely_ touching.

"You shouldn't… Lightning…" Vanille whispers in between the kisses. But she herself has her arms wrapped tightly around Lightning. She herself has difficulty letting go.

"Why?" Lightning questions, now softly suckling at the skin there.

The girl breathes out an airy sigh. "I'm… w-what that man has told you," she pauses to nibble at Lightning's upper lip. "You should hate me."

_That man, as in Rygdea? Oh, so she knows? Well, it's kind of obvious._

No response. Lightning just continues to kiss her.

"What I've…  _mmn…"_ Vanille's cut off when Lightning plants another kiss on her, "… what I've been doing to you,"  _kiss_ , "you should hate me."

She ignores her. Lightning's the best at it. Ignoring. Avoiding.  _Hiding._

Her lips go on teasing Vanille's; the two are caught in this gentle exchange of kisses. Once in a while, their lips would touch completely, but most often, they would come in contact  _just so._ It's like they're experimenting. It's like they don't want to, but want to, all at once. It's all very confusing. Very contradicting. What's even more confusing is that Lightning finds it necessary to explain herself. "I've been trying to," she states out of nowhere, lips still against Vanille's. Lightning presses closer. Her bare breasts are against the girl's, a thigh is in between the girl's, and her arms are circled around the girl's waist. They're flush, they're so close, but Lightning wants  _more._

Vanille sighs when Lightning leans in, their foreheads bumping and tips of their noses brushing. "It isn't hard," she whispers, "people like me—we are your enemies, are we not?"

Lightning loops an arm under Vanille's neck, letting the girl rest on her bicep and they rest on their sides. Vanille reaches for that arm, finding her way to link their fingers together. In response, Lightning moves her free hand to cup the girl's face, as does Vanille's to her, and the two are once again locked in an intimate embrace. "Yes," Lightning answers, just before pecking those lips softly again. "Enemies," her hand moves downwards. Fingers trace the tendons on Vanille's neck, past the bump of her collarbone; Lightning points one finger out, lets it climb up one breast, pauses to rest her palm on it. She does all of this while kissing Vanille. "… I want to hate you."

Vanille's grip on Lightning's hand loosens a little. As if she's surrendering herself. "Then why do you kiss me?" She asks against Lightning's lips, "Why are you  _still_  kissing me?"

There is this inexplicable need to look Vanille in the eye as she comes up with an answer. Even if she means to be insincere, she doesn't want to look away. Azure clashes with emerald; the many swirls of colours in their irises glisten quietly under the moonlight. But instead of answering right away, Lightning lingers on Vanille's breast a while longer—feeling that beating heart. Her lips go on moving, suckling, simply touching the girl's, and it soothes her, somehow. Their hands that are linked now have their fingers intertwined, and Lightning doesn't know how to get any closer than this. "My people have nearly exterminated your species. They pillaged from you, tortured,  _raped_ you. And I've done about just as much," she finally replies. "Why are  _you_ kissing me?"

Vanille, likewise, doesn't look away. It's almost as if she's searching for an answer in Lightning's eyes. "I told you," she moves her hand away from Lightning's face, sliding it higher to the back of her head. She runs through the pink hair with an unprecedented softness, letting the tresses fall between the cracks of her fingers. "You're my distraction," she pulls Lightning down to hide in her neck. "As I am to you."

_Liar._

Lightning closes her eyes that seem to be burning. Her nose feels sour but she pushes the feeling down her throat. The palm lingering on Vanille's breast moves lower. When her hand reaches its destination, Lightning keeps her fingers at Vanille's opening. The girl is still wet from their earlier love-making— _wait, no. 'Love-making'_? No. It's anything but that. It can't be that. Lightning mentally shakes her head. She hates that this bothers her. Hates that she's conflicted over something so trivial.  _Just fuck her._

" _Mm…"_ Vanille moans into Lightning's ear when two fingers enter her.

It makes her shudder. Lightning  _actually_ feels a tingle run down her spine. It's… it's nice. She pushes further in,  _slowly, gently._ The walls cling onto her with a comfortable warmth and Lightning is content to stay like this.

"L-Lightning…  _please…_ " Vanille rasps.

She considers ignoring her. Because Lightning knows that once they make eye contact again, they won't be able to look away. There's this strange, magnetic force that draws them together. It's hypnotic. It's irritating _._ But it's  _so_ soothing. That's why Lightning can't help it; she pulls back slightly, just enough so that their eyes may clash again.

Vanille is  _so_ red. Even with just the moonlight, she can see—Lightning can make out the pink flush that's spreading from her neck up to her cheeks. It's so unbearably hot. And Lightning can't hold back anymore. She crushes her lips into Vanille's. Full force. She thrusts her tongue in, as her fingers do into Vanille's centre. Lightning is expecting a scream, some sort of protest, just  _something_ to show that Vanille doesn't want this. But what does the girl do instead?

She kisses her back—with the same amount of strength. Her hips buck into Lightning's fingers. The hand that is at the back of Lightning's head urges the soldier to come closer— _kiss harder._

And as their tongues dance, Lightning's hand moves faster. Her thumb finds Vanille's clit, exposed between their heat and Lightning presses down. Vanille tosses her head to the side, crying out at the suddenness—a natural reaction—but Lightning quickly recaptures her mouth. Vanille, just as desperate, returns the kiss with fervour. Her moans are muffled, and Lightning realizes that this is the first time she's fucking the girl with such passion _._ It's the first time she's fucking Vanille  _so close._ It's the first time they're  _kissing_ during sex. It's amazing; it heightens her senses, dials everything up a hundredfold. I-it's making her feel so weird. So in need of  _something_. It makes her hips buck to nothing. With each pumping motion her own fingers make, Lightning bucks to  _nothing._

But Vanille moves her hand down, apparently noticing Lightning's distress. When those fingers touch her, Lightning realizes how sensitive she is. A whimper escapes her throat, which is luckily masked by Vanille's moans against her mouth.  _Fuck,_ the girl makes her feel more vulnerable than she ever needs to be. It's so dangerous.

She doesn't want to be weak. Not in front of a  _Pulsian._ Determined, Lightning's fingers continue to thrust—deeply; she wriggles them inside, and when she finds a certain high-strung nerve, she teases it, feeling a certain smoothness that makes Vanille throw her head back, howling. But Lightning doesn't want to break that kiss. She needs  _something_ to hold onto, to keep her sanity in check _,_ and the closest part she can reach right now is Vanille's neck.  _Fine,_ she'll settle for that. She wants to bite _,_ but finds herself kissing. She wants Vanille to scream, yet her fingers are rubbing gently on that swollen wall and clit, only thrusting along Vanille's movements. She wants to  _fuck_ Vanille, but…  _why can't she bring herself to do it?_

"Light… Lightning…" Vanille calls in a series of breathy gasps. Her own fingers are following the soldier's hips, never breaking the rhythm. Their eyes meet again—for the third time in the night, and it doesn't feel any less stellar. "Please, k-kiss… me…"

No hesitation. Lightning easily moves in and their lips reconnect. Their bodies see no limit despite covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Their lungs are burning and their hearts pound dangerously against their ribcages, but there is seemingly no end. Their kisses have gotten out of control as their tongues are now meddling together  _outside,_ and the sounds they make together are primal. They fuck like animals in heat—it's disgusting _,_  Lightning thinks, but  _it's so beautiful._

As Vanille's rhythm quickens, the tingling sensation running through her veins amplify. It's like her entire body is vibrating. It's so  _hot,_ so sensual, and although it's something out of her control, Lightning is strangely okay with it. She welcomes it, just as Vanille does when they come together. Their walls clamp at their fingers, and while Vanille's orgasm has rendered her body in a firm knot, Lightning focuses all her remaining consciousness to rub at the girl's clit, drawing out the climax.

" _Mmm…_! Lightning _—_ I… I c-can't…!" Vanille body arches, and seeing how she can no longer reach to kiss the girl, Lightning captures a rosy nipple. She sucks and sucks; nibbles turn into  _bites_ when she finds herself wanting  _more._ Vanille withdraws her hand from Lightning's centre, now reaching to weakly push at her head. "Lightning… please, I-I'm so sore…" she whines.

 _Fine,_ Lightning thinks, can't blame her. Poor girl has yet to come down from the orgasm, after all. Lightning kisses her way up, scooting to rest beside Vanille. The two then stare at the ceiling. The room that was previously filled with their moans and cries and the moonlight is now replaced with their panting sounds and the orange of a sunrise. The sheets are wet and everything smells of sex, and Lightning has never felt an eerier feeling in her life.

_The girl makes her feel sick._

_(so wanted)_

Stop,  _please._

She wants to shut the voice out. She doesn't want to think about it.

"Lightning,"

But it's inevitable. They eventually have to talk about this. She turns to Vanille.

"May I ask one more thing of you?"

Again, no hesitation. Lightning blinks to acknowledge her, realizing that Vanille's eyes look even more beautiful in the sunlight.

"Will you come watch the fireworks with me?"

There is a longing in the girl's gaze. It's a small request, but Lightning sees so much gravity in it. Almost like Vanille's putting everything into this. So she blinks again.

In response, the corner of Vanille's lips arch upwards. A beautiful, charming,  _lovely_ smile. It makes Lightning's heart flutter, as much as she doesn't want to admit _—_ even more so when the girl snuggles closer, now hiding in Lightning's neck. "Thank you," Vanille says, kissing her shoulder. "It means a lot."

She wants to hold her. Lightning wants to hug Vanille to sleep. It's easy _—_ just reach out, lean over, wrap her arms around her _—it's so easy._ Just do it,  _Lightning._

She does.

And Vanille. Vanille purrs and melts into her arms.

Lightning's heart pounds harder as her stomach does backflips.

.  
.

This unexplainable and altogether confusing sensation lasts throughout the rest of the day. Lightning comes to the conclusion that she needs to numb herself. As such, she finishes all her reports within the morning; most of which takes much longer for the average GC soldier but,  _come on,_ she's way too intelligent to be bogged down by  _paperwork_.

So why isn't she intelligent enough to sort out her feelings?

Because she's an idiot,  _duh._

Lightning rolls her eyes. The fact that she's talking to herself in her head is really fucked up.

Since she's in such a dire need of a distraction, maybe she can register for a mission? As everyone says, with her credentials, she can literally do  _anything_ she wants. The fact that she doesn't have any upcoming missions _—_ at least none that involves going outside of the borders of Bodhum _—_ should mean that she can apply for something through the GC database? Worth a try. Lightning scrolls through the monitor and ticks the box for basically  _everything._

"Jeez, that's crazy, Farron," Torreno approaches her and stares into her screen. "Are you, like, super bored or in need of money?"

Normally, Lightning would be bothered by her colleagues distracting her at work, but it seems she can use some distraction right now. "Neither, really." She gives him an honest answer, and then she remembers _—_ "Sorry about the other night, by the way. For leaving early without saying anything. It really was an amazing wedding."

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Torreno laughs, "I was piss-drunk throughout most of it. I felt bad for not coming by to drink with you. Heard you're a real tank."

Lightning smiles.

Of course, that alone is enough to prompt Torreno to go on, which is the last thing that Lightning wants _—_ prolonging unnecessary conversations. "Anyway, Rygdea told me everything. How your girlfriend was feeling ill. Even though I really wanted to meet her, safety comes first, y'know? So it's all good!"

 _Rygdea._ Lightning just nods.

"Well then," he straightens his uniform, "I'll be headed down to the cafe. Gotta get me a double shot espresso _—"_

"Torreno," Lightning suddenly calls.

"Hmm?" The man in question tilts his head, curious. This has got to be the first time Lightning's spoken to him so casually, and the pink-haired soldier isn't known for making casual conversations.

She stands, "Rygdea told me you served with the PSICOM?"

He blinks. "Um, yeah. Like, about two years ago. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Never knew you were so skilled."

The man blushes. Damn, a simple praise from Lightning just gets  _anybody_ reeling, huh? "Aw, you flatter me. Pretty sure you'd make a better PSICOM than I ever did!"

 _Yes, of course she would,_ Lightning wants to say. Instead, she just smiles again. "Sadly, I have no interest to work under the Sanctum."

He breaks into a small chuckle. "You're damn right about that. Some methods they use are borderline inhumane. I managed to transfer away before I got in too deep."

Meaning he wouldn't know anything about the Pulsians.  _Shame._

"Alright, I'm heading down. Can I get you anything? A coffee?"

She shakes her head. "I'm good, thank you."

Torreno nods. "Don't work so hard by the way, Farron. You're still young," he waves as he walks out of the room, "just make a wish at the fireworks tonight for that promotion or whatever you're craving for."

_Hmn._

_(i've tried every year)_

_Wishes don't come true._

.  
.

They really don't.

Lightning stands on the crowded beach, staring at the pre-show of the fireworks. Airbikes are surrounding the dome, loud, electronic music is blasting in the background, and people are scattered everywhere, each in a group of their own. Huh. Nobody but herself is standing alone. It kind of makes her stand out like a sore thumb. How typical. Oh, there is absolutely nothing entertaining about these fireworks, by the way. It pains her to see that year after year, people come to this event to  _wish_ on something that is artificial. Fake legends, fake myths,  _fake_. They're all fake. People are clinging onto an idea that is structured to destroy hope.

That's why she doesn't wish anymore. It just brings more pain. And she can't stand any more of it.

She looks to the big NORA Bar sign at the corner of the beach. It's loaded with so many people—Lightning isn't sure if she has it in her to make it through them all. She can see that even Gadot is helping out at this point. Lebreau wasn't lying, it truly is hectic on fireworks night.

So where is Vanille?

Surely, it isn't hard to pick out the bright red hair from the bunch. Lightning herself has excellent eyesight, so  _where is the girl?_

It shouldn't bother her this much. It  _really_ shouldn't.

But Lightning is searching, searching,  _searching._ It frustrates her to no end that what she's looking for isn't in sight—that she can't just  _bring herself_ to walk up to the bar and ask where Vanille is.

… that she's too scared to even mention the topic of  _Vanille_.

Scared because the two of them will turn to sex. That's all they ever do anymore. And it scares her. Ironic that Lightning first talked to Vanille because she wanted to fuck her, and now it makes her nauseous to even  _think_ about having sex with her. Still, some part of Lightning wants the sex; she  _craves_ it, but it's just… she can't bear the thought of having sex like they did last night. It's too close for comfort. Too confusing. Too  _much._

But she wants her. Not in the way she first wanted her. Not for the sex. Not in the way Vanille proclaims herself to be _—a distraction—_ no, none of that. Lightning wants _…_ she wants _—_

"When the show ends,"

Lightning spins to the voice, her hair swaying to her quick motions— _it's_ _Vanille._ Lightning nearly forgets how to breathe. The girl is in her usual pink tank top and white short-shorts. Without the NORA apron and all.

"… I'm going to go back." Vanille says with a smile.

But Lightning screams at herself to put up a calm front. "To work?"

"Mmm," Vanille shakes her head. In a comfortable pace, she makes her way up to the taller woman, "… to Eden."

" _Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Bodhum Fireworks Show!"_

The crowd cheers loudly.

The music blurs.

Explosions.

The announcer continues to speak, but Lightning can't hear anything. "What…?" she mouths more so than asks, the sound blending in with the explosions in the background.

Vanille approaches her, the smile lingering on her face. "It's time I go back," she says through the muted noises. "I'm tired of running," she speaks as the colourful lights reflect off her beautiful face. "But I wanted to see this no matter what," Vanille states as she turns towards the fireworks, "... with you."

Lightning is frozen. In space. In time. Just  _robbed_ of the ability to react _._ She stares wordlessly at the shorter girl and tries her  _utter best_ to come up with a reason. A reason f-for…  _what?_ What reason does she have—does she  _need?_ Why is she doing this? Why is it necessary? Why even _bother?_

"Then I'll stay with you until it ends," she whispers.

Vanille's smile widens, walking closer to stand beside her.

Lightning follows her motions. Pretending to be occupied by the show, but she is in truth staring at nothing. Her mind is blank. Her entire being is numb to the core. Can't feel the soft sand beneath her feet. Can't feel the ocean breeze. Can't smell the faint scent of the perfume that Vanille always wears. Almost like she's floating.

The show drags on. The music changes a couple times, the lights and colours sparkle differently— _whatever._ They all don't make a difference to Lightning. She can't bother to pay attention. She can't even bother to  _breathe._ Oh, it's happening again. This sudden need to  _run._ She wants more than anything to hide in her bed. Under the covers. And… and maybe she can hold onto her pillow. Clench onto it with all her might. Channel away this pressure that is crushing her lungs. Just  _hide._ Hide in her bed.  _Hide in Vanille's embrace_ —

No.

Lightning turns to Vanille, longing to say  _something_.

But the girl is already looking at her, and she is the first to speak up. "Don't," she says with a soft expression. "We shouldn't. Not anymore."

Just like that, Lightning turns back to the fireworks.

It's better this way, she tries to convince herself. The less emotional attachment, the better. Let Vanille go back to the PSICOM. Let them have their way with her, even if it means that she  _will_ die. Even if it means that Lightning will never, ever see her again. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't, because Lightning feels nothing. Vanille's from Pulse, she's from Cocoon. Enemies by nature—by fate; she shouldn't feel anything. Let her  _die_ if she so wishes. It doesn't concern her. It shouldn't.

" _We're approaching the finale of the show. Best make your wishes if you haven't yet, ladies and gentlemen! Legends have it—"_

"Will you be making a wish?" Vanille asks.

Lightning clenches a fist. Her throat burns.  _God,_ it hurts to speak. "You should know that I don't believe in these things."

"Mm," the girl nods, "but I do. Which is why I made one for you."

More sparks. The music becomes louder. The explosions more colourful. Her feelings,  _a storm._ "What did you wish for?" Lightning asks quietly.

Vanille keeps her hands behind herself, giggling. "If I told you, it wouldn't come true."

The wonderful sounds coming from the girl eases Lightning. It actually makes her want to laugh along. Of course, she doesn't _—can't—_ and resorts to a smile. It certainly is enough to give her the will to continue the conversation, however. "You should've saved it for yourself."

Vanille breathes out lightly. "That would be a waste."

Lightning tries to pretend she doesn't understand the multiple hidden meanings behind that.

.  
.

She also tries to pretend that she isn't going through a whirlwind of emotions in her head as Vanille walks down the hallway in her home, bags in hand. She pretends that she isn't trying to stall time. Lengthen what little is left between them. That Vanille will be okay _._ Completely unfazed by the fact that Lightning herself will likely be alone for who-knows-how-long.  _Just pretend._  Calmly, she speaks up, "You sure you don't need me to walk you to the station? Or call a cab for you?"

Vanille just smiles. "You should get some rest, Lightning. You have work tomorrow, and I do want to spend a little more time in this town. Take in the views, you know?"

Lightning looks at her feet, fishing for something else to say. But of course _—_ "... okay," _—_ is what comes out pathetically instead. "I'll, uh. Just tell Lebreau and them that you have family emergency?"

The girl's shoulders droop. She doesn't even need to say out loud for Lightning to know what she's thinking—that she feels bad about leaving without saying goodbye to them. "Yeah," she says simply. "Thank you."

They walk in silence towards the entrance. Vanille then turns around, seemingly one final time, and greets Lightning with the same charming smile that the soldier first laid eyes on at the beach that night.

It's only been two months, but so many things have happened since then.

And Lightning doesn't know if she's capable of forgetting everything _._

"I…" Vanille digs around in her bag, "… got you something."

What, why? Lightning tilts her head, curious.

"Lebreau told me, you don't care much for days like this. And that you tend to forget them anyway because you work so hard," her hand emerges with a small white box, wrapped neatly with a pink ribbon tied in a cute bow. "Happy birthday."

Lightning can only blink in surprise. It's true. She doesn't care at all about these things. That's how she copes with being alone. Because no one is ever there to celebrate with her _._ "It isn't until tomorrow," she says softly. "And you didn't have to."

The girl shakes her head. "I got it a while ago. Actually, I had the urge to give it to you that night when you put on the dress." Vanille takes Lightning's hand to place the box into her palm. "It would've been a beautiful match."

Oh? Is it some sort of accessory? Lightning's never a person who gets excited about presents, but she can't shake the curiosity off this one. "Can I open it?"

Vanille's eyes gleam much more brightly than any firework explosion when she smiles. "If you'd like."

The expression, as Lightning already knows, is contagious. She returns the smile with a rare one of her own and reaches for the end of a ribbon.

_ding dong_

The two pause. Literally, it's like they're trapped in some sort of weird scenario on a player and somebody hit the  _pause_ button with a remote. For once, Lightning isn't the first to react. Her muscles have gone stiff; she's frozen in place and hasn't even looked up from the box yet. Her heart begins to pound in the most unpleasant way, she bead-sweats, her breath is heavy— _hard to explain,_ but it's that feeling one gets when something bad is about to happen.

_ding dong_

Vanille turns around, "Who can it be at this hour?" she asks.

It's nearly midnight. It can't be the NORA squad—they should still be busy at the bar.

"Lightning? Should I—"

_Beep beep_

Oh, no.

The door unlocks. Vanille takes a step back for it to open. Lightning starts  _panting_ , still refusing to move even when Vanille's back bumps into her.

A gasp.

Lightning isn't sure if it came from herself, Vanille,  _or—_

"Y-you're…" Vanille's voice.

Silence.

Lightning is tempted to look. Confirm who it is— _but she already knows._

_(no I don't)_

She needs to… l-look. She…

"Serah," the person says.

Lightning's heart  _burns_ at the voice _._ On instinct, her eyes dart upwards, and they nearly bulge at the sight of—

"I'm…" the pink-haired girl continues, "… her sister."

.  
.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the support so far! The kudos/comments really mean a lot to me :)


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